


My Name Is Yasha Romanoff

by ShunKickShunKers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adoption, F/M, Harry has a different name, He also plays the violin, Mother-Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-03-09 17:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 61,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3258641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShunKickShunKers/pseuds/ShunKickShunKers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius found baby Harry first and asked the Black Widow to keep an eye on him while he dealt with Peter. Unfortunately, he never came back and Harry Potter disappeared from the wizardly world. Ten years later, Yasha Romanov receives a letter from Howgarts...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Obvious crossover HP and Avengers. Hope you'll enjoy it :)

**Chap 1**

Sirius glanced nervously around him. The Italian café was slowly gathering people in the early morning and he was starting to attract attention thanks to the baby basket lying at his feet. Little Harry was quiet –had been since they had taken off from Goldric’s Hollow, which was a blessing –but who knew how long he would be? Sirius had little experience with babies, and even Lily’s attempts to take care of him had…

He felt a surge of anger and sadness surface again, but ruefully pushed them back. The person he was meeting today would spot any sign of weakness, and wouldn’t mind pushing every button to set him off. So he buried his grief and sadness, buried and locked them tight in a safe in the corner of his mind. If he managed to convince _her_ to take in Harry, he would have one thing less to worry about.

“Why am I here?”

Sirius nearly jumped out of his skin. The seat that had been empty seconds ago was now occupied by a stunning young woman, casually dressed in jeans and T-shirt. Her red vibrant hair seemed to glow in the light and her large sunglasses covered a good part of her face. She had been a blonde when he had last seen her, but Sirius was positive this was the spy named Natalia Romanova. He felt a light pang in his chest as he remembered the woman she had been back then. Or rather, the façade she had showed him –she had shown them –at the time. He had thought himself in love with that façade, until he realized who she really was. Even then, he couldn’t help but admire her.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice” he said instead, forcing himself to focus on his goal. “Could you please remove your sunglasses first?”

Natalia sighed in annoyance but complied. Sirius nearly gasped in surprise: although her hair had changed –and granted it had been five years or so –but the redhead still looked in her late teens, early twenties, her face untouched by time.

She hadn’t been kidding when she had told them she aged slowly.

“What do you want, Black?” the spy asked again, dryly.

Focus, he thought. It would do no good to let her take the upper hand of the conversation, even though he was pretty much at her mercy. He wordlessly pulled up the baby basket on his knees and watched with semi amusement as she stared at it as if it was a ticking bomb.

“This is Harry. He is Lily and James Potter’s son. Unless I am mistaken, James, Lily and I helped you out of some serious jam last time. You told us yourself you were _indebted_ to us.”

“They’re dead and you want me to keep an eye on that kid.” She said blankly, her eyes and expressions unreadable. Sirius assumed she guessed his friends’ death by the fact he showed up alone and, he had to admit, in a poor state of dress. Still, he nodded, glad she was sharp.

“Just for a couple months. I need to take care of something” rather some _one_ , he thought grimly. “Then we’ll both be out of your hair. Debt repaired and everything.”

Natalia’s eyes narrowed, her incrusting gaze checking each and every moves of his. Her attitude reminded him of a snake, searching for a weakness before deciding whether to strike or not. Her decision would be made in a split second and he’d have to take every advantage he could from that.

“Two months” she suddenly declared. “I’ll give you two months to do what you have to do. I’ll meet you here with the boy and if you’re not, I’ll send him in an orphanage.”

Sirius tensed. Two months were reasonable enough to return to England, take care of Peter and make the necessary arrangements for the future, but he didn’t like the way she suggested he could fail. He would not fail. He could _not_ afford to fail. Harry needed him, he was so young…Natalia went on, uncaring of the thoughts running through his mind:

“And since you look so concerned about his safety, his name will be changed too. The moment you hand him over to me, ‘Harry Potter’ is no more. He will be Yakov Romanov.”

 _Yakov_ was the equivalent for James; Sirius remembered she had told them back then. Fine, perhaps he wasn’t doing a mistake confiding Harry to the former Russian spy. She wasn’t _that_ bad; maybe she just hated being indebted to someone.

“Do I have a payment for this?” she asked, but it felt more like a demand.

Sirius wondered if she was tight on budget since she had gone freelance. A few galleons would do the trick, after all gold was valuable in the muggle world and he was pretty sure they’d cover all the expenses she needed for the next two months. He pulled out the seven he carried on him and handed them to her. Natalia pocketed them after a quick examination. She then took the baby basket and slowly, as to not wake up Harry, held it tight to her chest.

“I’ll see you in two months. Same time same place. If you’re over fifteen minutes late…” her voice trailed off and Sirius nodded in agreement. Before she could turn away though, he added:

“It goes without saying, but take care of the little guy. He hasn’t asked for any of this.”

Natalia sent him an impassive stare.

“I don’t hurt children, Black. I owed Potter a debt so don’t worry, Yakov’s safe with me.”

A blink of the eye later and she had vanished. Sirius inhaled sharply, praying he hadn’t made the biggest mistake of his life. He suddenly stood up, dropped muggle money to pay his coffee and stormed off to his bike, ready to return to England and ensure Harry would never had to fear for the future.

 

_Ten years later, Howgarts, Headmaster’s office_

 

Another year was starting at Howgarts, and it was usually a good reason for celebration but Dumbledore felt particularly depressed. Nearly ten years ago, the Potters had been decimated, leaving their son orphaned and on his own. He had urged Hagrid to retrieve the boy, but the half-giant had been too late. Sirius Black had gone ahead and picked up the baby and, to Dumbledore’s greatest dismay, vanished for a week. When Sirius had finally resurfaced, he had been alone and out for blood. Under two days, he had avoided and evaded them, had cornered one of his friends, Peter, and had killed him along with twelve other muggles. The reason for his suddenly bloodlust? Peter had betrayed the Potters, or so he said. When questioned about Harry, Sirius had claimed having put his godson into safety. But not once he had agreed to speak about his location.

Dumbledore laid back in his seat and closed his eyes. He remembered all too well the interrogation the young Black had gone through after his arrest…

_The man stood silent and glaring at everyone in the room, the hate and disdain evident in his eyes. His hands and feet might have been restrained, but he appeared more dangerous than ever. Aurors and members of the Order were there, but none appeared too eager to get close to the murderer without backup._

_“I didn’t kill the Potters” Sirius spit angrily. “Peter Pettigrow is still alive and lurking! There’s another spy among you!”_

_Dumbledore stood feet away from him. He crouched to be at his level and asked again:_

_“We found a finger, which was all left from him. Sirius, if you truly are on the side of the light, you need to tell me, where is Harry?”_

_“If he comes back here, he’ll be in danger!” the man kept repeating desperately. “I can’t allow it, not until you find the mole!”_

_“He will be safe, I assure you.” Dumbledore replied calmly. “Please Sirius, be reasonable…”_

_“I am his godfather! His safety is my priority!”_

_“You just dumped him to You-Know-Who’s followers!” one of the Aurors in the background howled. “You bloody traitor!”_

_The words seemed to infuriate Sirius even more and consolidate his determination._

_“Fuck you!” he yelled back. “You are just a bunch of blind bloody fools! I’ll never say where he is! You’ll never find him!”_

_“Siri-“ Dumbledore started. The young man interrupted him with a glare:_

_“And you, Albus, are the biggest fool of all.”_

_And then, Black laughed hysterically._

Sirius had been right on one point; Harry had never been found. They had tried every connection the man had, used many resources, followed an endless number of trails to no avail. He sighed deeply, feeling he had failed the Potters but above all, that he had failed the wizarding world. Voldemort was still lurking, and the boy who would have been their last chance had vanished. In a last move of hope, he had checked the list of this year’s new students. No Harry Potter had been subscribed for this year or for the seven next. As he closed the book, Dumbledore felt he could only sadly conclude that the last member of that old family had passed away.

 

_Somewhere in Spain_

 

Natalia walked down the path unhurriedly. Deep inside though, she was fuming. Her employer –former employer –had attempted to double-cross her and kill her after the money delivery. He had failed of course and she had killed all the extra security he had hired. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have bothered going through all. Had he not _ruined_ her favorite shirt, perhaps she would have left him alive. But no, he had to play the bigger guy and strain her top with blood -a top _Yasha_ had bought for her.

And when the big boss fell, his bodyguards launched on her. Nothing she couldn’t take care of. She did spare the one who wore a wedding ring. The poor guy looked completely at loss –obviously a novice –and she was pretty sure he would stop working for shady people. She made it look like she wanted to leave someone behind so the survivor would spread the word that the Black Widow was not to be trifled with _again_.

Her footsteps wavered when she caught the sign of a music shop in the corner. Natalia hesitated a moment, wondering whether she should waste precious minutes just to check if what she was looking for could be found there. She had made a few steps towards the shop when she felt it; that disagreeable feeling of someone watching her, a threat hanging over her head. It wasn’t the first time actually. Those past days, she couldn’t shake that sensation of being followed and unfortunately, she had been working far too long in the business to know she had a tail. She had caught sight of him on a roof the previous day –a man wearing sunglasses, cramped in the shadows.

The moment she had realized that, she had decided they needed to move again. Shame, they had spent two full years here.

Determined to shake her tail before returning home, Natalia strolled through the streets, ducked through shortcuts and mixed with crowds. After a while, once she knew she had lost him, she directed herself in the right direction. Her steps had led her closer to home that she’d like, but since she figured she was no longer followed, it didn’t mattered much.

The redhead slipped in a small alley and entered an ordinary-looking building. She headed to the second floor, stopped at the apartment numbered 205 and opened the door. The sound of a violin greeted her the moment she stepped in, and Natalia couldn’t bite back a smile. As quietly as she could muster, she sneaked into the living room and peeked inside. An eleven year old boy was hanging onto his violin like his life depended on it. Long dark hair was tied back into a ponytail; his eyes were closed, enjoying the melody his habile fingers were producing. Natalia recognized the soloist part of Storm from Vivaldi. Not quite easy she assumed, yet he stood straight and elegant, in total ease as his fingers and bow ran over the cords. The last notes trailed off and he lowered his violin. The redhead stepped inside the room and slowly clapped her hands in approval.

“Great job малыш.” She said with a smile. The boy blushed and returned her smile with a humble grin.                                         

“Welcome back mama. Did you have any trouble during your courses?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle” she reassured him. “How did your lesson go?”

The boy grimaced.

“Miss Morgan is determined to get me into a music school. She says I’m a virtuoso in waiting, that the tools I have aren’t enough for a good development.”

Natalia raised an eyebrow at his neutral tone.

“I thought you would be thrilled by the news. Yasha, what’s going on?”

His mouth thinned into a line. He pulled out a letter from his pants pocket and handed it to her. Natalia looked over the address and understood. The envelope had a creamy color, very parchment-like, and the green scripture in old elegant print made her wince. Her suspicions were furthermore approved when she returned it. A red seal was marked with an emblem she had seen very few times over the years, but would recognize anywhere. Howgart’s crest.

Ten years ago, Sirius Black had trusted her with his best friend’s baby son for two months. The two months had gone by and he hadn’t returned. Despite having promised she’d leave the boy past the delay, Natalia had gone to England, determined to dump the one year old back on him. Her contacts had informed her that Sirius had been thrown into a wizard prison, Azkaban, for killing a war hero and hiding the ‘Boy-Who-Lived’. Further investigation had made her realize how important the baby actually was for the magical community, and Natalia had made a decision. She could find out if the baby still had living relatives, she could search for one of the members of the Order of the Phoenix, she could drop the baby at an English orphanage or anywhere in the world –she wasn’t that cruel, she knew a couple of good places- or…

She could keep him.

The thought had sounded crazy; she was the Black Widow, infamous assassin. Attention was her worst enemy and a baby would just hinder her. But then, the little boy had opened her eyes, green eyes, alike hers, and smiled that absolutely horribly cute smile of his and babbled ‘ _maaama’_ and she knew she was stuck with him. Natalia might be a first-class assassin and an abnormality –curtsey of the Red Room and their serums –but she craved to feel a sense of _normality_. A baby would help her blend in. With her mind made up, she had taken off and never looked back. Ten years later, ten years of worrying, caring, watching and that baby had grown into the boy standing before her today.

He may have not turned out to be the boy his parents or Sirius would have wanted, but Natalia thought she hadn’t done a bad job. Yasha was intelligent and resourceful. He seemed content with his life and she always made sure he felt cared for. But unfortunately, now that he was coming of age…

“I suppose that was bound to happen someday” she merely said, resigned.

The wizarding world was finally catching up with them.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and the comments :) And heeere we go on chap No2 ! Enjoy !

**Chapter 2**

The bus slowed down and the driver opened the doors. Yasha glanced at the name of the stop and, seeing it wasn’t his, read his letter again.

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY**

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Romanov,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

He folded it, placed it in his pocket and stared outthe window. The sky was clear over London today, and he hoped it stayed that way for a while. Natalia had clearly let him know they would remain in the city until he took the train and he wanted to visit a few places before then. This was actually the second time he came to the English capital, but he was barely five the first time and didn’t remember much. Yasha knew his mother resented England for personal reasons, and of course he knew why.

The bus stopped again and this time Yasha stepped down. Hands deep in his jacket’s pocket, he strolled down the streets, glancing around in search of the pubwhere he was supposed to join Natalia. The woman had told him to meet her there at two pm sharp, or he’d have to buy his wand himself. Yasha snorted, knowing fully she wouldn’t allow him to wander in a wizard avenue maybe on his own. Too many risks, she’d say, too many chances to be recognized, especially in London. Or England, for the matter. England was still an unsafe place for Harry Potter, she’d say.

Yakov Romanov, nicknamed Yasha, knew he used to be Harry Potter.

Once he had been of an age to understand, once he had first shown signs of magic, his mother had told him what had happened to the baby once carrying that name. His parents had been murdered when he was one and his godfather, a wizard named Sirius, had entrusted him to her while he did some business. When Sirius had been thrown in jail after committing murder of thirteen people (although his mother wasn’t quite convinced about the ‘heartless muggle slaughter’ part) and kidnapping (that one was accurate, sort of), Natalia had kept him. The mole Sirius had been after was still most likely running around and some fanatics that called themselves Death Eater still free and she trusted the English wizarding world would go crazy if he were to be recognized. It was a complete paradox they’d come here of all places for shopping, but Yasha tended not to ponder over his mother’s reasoning too much.

He thought of the letter deep in his pocket and smirked. Yes, England might be still unsafe for Harry Potter, but not for Yakov Romanov.

He had no idea why he had been enrolled in that school under the name Natalia had given him, or why Hogwarts, a goddamn school of magic, wouldn’t recognize him as Harry goddamn Potter. Was it because Yasha didn’t consider himself as Harry Potter? Was it because he had been adopted? He didn’t want to pounder over the thought anyway. Things were as they were and he was quite happy being Yakov Romanov. Sure, Harry had parents who had died for him, a godfather who had been likely thrown in jail for him; Harry had been loved and was now an orphan. And Yakov? Yakov had no blood parent, but he had his mother. He had this mother who had raised him as her own, who had brought him all over the world, who had taught him to fight and to flee, who had hired an old wizard to teach him the basics even though magic made her uneasy -because she couldn’t fight it, she couldn’t protect him from it, so he had to learn to defend himself in that field on his own. Yakov had no family aside from his incredible mother, and that was enough.

The last thought gave him a smile and he went on his road with a leap in his steps.

Five minutes later, he finally found the Leaky Caldron –a beaten up edifice with dirty windows and looking like it was about to fall apart anytime- and to his relief, found out he was a little early. Yasha carefully placed his cap over his face and walked in.

The inside was dark and certainly not responding to most sanitation criteria Great Britain (or any country in that matter) imposed bars and restaurants but Yasha had seen worst. Okay, maybe he was exaggerating, the place was mostly clean, but the darkness didn’t flatter it. The atmosphere felt most intriguing though, quite appealing. He checked the crowd and, not seeing his mother, headed to the bar. The bald and nearly toothless guy moving behind stared at him intensely.

“Y’want something lad?” he asked.

“Yes sir. Have you seen a redhead woman around? I’m waiting for her.”

“Can’t say I have.” He replied with a shrug.

“Do you mind if I wait here then?” Yasha asked, pointing an empty table in the corner. “She should arrive anytime.”

The barman grumbled something that sounded like a ‘sure’ –Yasha wasn’t quite sure, but he took it as if anyway, so he headed to said place and waited.

His decision to go to Hogwarts  was more out of curiosity than necessity. He had been taught the basics, had taught himself the rest, and managed well on his own. He didn’t even _need_ a wand since Master Pietor had practiced wandless magic. His music teacher had nearly begged him to enter a music school and he’d had been _this_ _close_ to giving in, but the opportunity of entering a magical community free of charges was too tempting. Moreover the school was lost in Scotland and well-protected by magical barriers against non-magical people, so he knew Natalia would consider him safe. The problem was that it _was_ lost in Scotland and protected against non-magical people. His mother couldn’t sneak in like she would normally do and he’d have to find a way to communicate with her without raising too much attention on her side. Owls might be practical, but what if she was in the middle of a mission?

Yasha had a pretty clear idea of what his mother did for a living. Even if she hadn’t vaguely explained what her job consisted in; the guns, the knives, her odd bracelets, her knowledge in various martial arts and her sometimes questionable resources would had been a dead giveaway. It didn’t bother him though. Nowadays, you had to get the money one way or another, right? And he admitted, he kinda liked watching her play the others. Fine, he _loved_ watching her playing a role and being the only one knowing she was just acting. People would just stare in awe and fall into her web so fast it made him laugh hilariously each and every time. Someday, he would be like that; a fabulous actor. He’d caught a few tricks watching her work the times she allowed him to tag along. He wouldn’t be killing for sure, but there was something appealing to manipulating and misleading people, a strange sense of power. One day, he promised himself, he’d be as good as her, or even better.

The door opened and another client entered but not his mother. Yasha sighed and looked around. There was little people around, all of them witches and wizards he’d bet. None of them were paying attention to him, which was a good thing because he sure as hell was watching _them_. Two men were talking at a table with low voices –businessmen or government representative he’d bet, given their outfit. A witch was smoking a large green pipe. A man still holding onto his mug was dozing off. A group of five witches were laughing. A couple exchanging starry-gaze eyes…

When the door opened this time, Yasha grinned as he recognized the flash of red hair. _Finally_.

He stood up and hurriedly joined her. Natalia smiled when she saw him, but the edges of her mouth were tensed. She was preoccupied about something, he realized. Was she being followed?

Was that why she had asked him to come on his own and not with her?

“Ready for some shopping, ребенок?” ( _brat_ )

They already had all the furniture and wardrobe but Natalia insisted they bought his wand in a specific store. Something about his biological parents buying theirs there and blending in. Yasha nodded and they headed to the backdoor of the bar and ended in an enclosed yard. Natalia frowned.

“That’s odd,” she muttered. “There used to be a gate there.”

“You sure you got the right place?” he asked.

“That’s the only entrance I remember.” She said, looking around, but nothing appeared to look close to a door or a secret passage. “Must need magic to activate it.”

Yasha figured they’d need to go back inside to ask for help, but before he could voice his thought, one of the wizards he suspected being from the government appeared.

“Oh hello ,” the man said, a bit surprised to find them. “What are you doing here?”

And then came one of Yasha’s favorite moment; Natalia’s metamorphosis. Her body language changed subtly, going from rigid to soft, from annoyed to honest-to-God puzzled and slightly distressed, her green eyes widening slightly and her mouth parting in an innocent way.

“We’re trying to reach Diagon Alley,” she said, her husky voice laced with a barely audible pleading for help. “My boy needs to do his shopping for school and I can’t find the entrance.”

The stranger nodded and smiled in understanding, obviously getting the hint she was not a witch –and apparently completely harmless.

“You should have set up an appointment with a Hogwarts  representative.” The unknown man said, not unkindly. “They wouldn’t mind scheduling a short introduction to the magical world for muggles.”

“I will keep that in mind” Natalia replied with her most sincere and relieved smile –a very fake one, but only Yasha could tell. “Thank you so much, mister?”

“Diggory. My son’s in Hogwartstoo, in Hufflepuff. Perhaps you’ll be sorted in the same house” he added, winking at Yasha. The boy returned his smile uneasily; he didn’t quite know what the guy was talking about. What the hell was Hufflepuff?

The wizard did some manipulation against the wall with his wand and the wall transformed into a gate opening into an alley. Yasha stared in curiosity. Diagon Alley was filled with old-looking shops, elegant Middle-Age style. Clothes shop, bookshops, broom shops and all gadgets and stuff most useful and useless to a wizard. In overall, Yasha was not impressed. The few things he’d seen in America and all around Europe were pretty much the same, if not more impressive.

“What’s the name of the store already?” he asked after getting disinterested in studying their environment.

“Ollivander’s, but we need to make another stop first. There’s a bank someplace here where your parents left you a vault,” Natalia replied. Oh, another reason to come here? Check his bank account? He didn’t even know he had one. “If not, I’ll still need to get more of that wizard money.”

Yasha could tell she was nervous by the way her eyes glanced at each and every corner of the street subtly.

“Are you all right mom? You’ve been tense lately.”

The woman inhaled sharply and nodded.

Yasha could tell the lie, but he followed her wordlessly. Gringotts was the largest building in the street –typical of banks, he thought –and well seen from afar. They crossed a bunch of wizards dressed in robes and entered the grand door. The place was crawling with people and it took them a while to arrive at a free counter. When they finally got to meet the Goblin, the creature stared at them with contempt, then scorned at Natalia, no doubt sensing she was non magical. The redhead stared back with a raised eyebrow. Goblins always gave Yasha gave the creeps –and he knew his mom hated them, but she was too well trained and he too used to keep a straight face to let it show.

“We’re here to check on my boy’s vault,” She said plainly. “But I have no idea where he left his key.”

“We will need a blood check,” the goblin replied, bored. “What’s his name?”

Yasha stepped forwards and spoke low enough for the creature –and no one else- to hear:

“Harry Potter, sir. But I am better known as Yakov Romanov. Call me Romanov.”

The goblin raised an eyebrow.

“Gringotts doesn’t care about what name you chose to carry,” he said cautiously but Yasha caught the intrigued tone in his voice and, given the slight tensing in her mother’s hand, so did she. “Please go to the reclamation desk over there. They will fill the forms and do what’s necessary.” 

“I have a question,” the redhead said dryly, making sure she had the goblin’s attention. “As far as I know, my boy’s the last of his family line. No-one else has access to his vault, correct?”

The goblin looked vaguely annoyed.

“The vault is sealed until proof of a family line has passed away.”

“Has anyone –a second or third party –attempted to open it these past years?”

“You will have to ask to the Po-your family’s bank manager. But such attempt has never succeeded before. We value our clients’ rights and privacy.” He quickly added when she gave him a skeptical look.

“Right,” She snorted and gave him the Evil Eye. The last man she’d used it on had wet himself. “If that manager fails to provide me a reliable bank deposit…”

“That has never happened before.” The goblin insisted, obviously growing uneasy. Yasha smirked inwardly. Ugly creatures, powerful and bankers might they be, but they were still vulnerable to his mother’s intimidation.

“If I heard _one_ penny has been moved, there _will_ be retaliation.”

“O-of course” the goblin mumbled.

Natalia put a hand on Yasha’s shoulder and guided him away. They didn’t see the goblin blink a few times, confused about why he had felt _threatened_ by a muggle woman for a brief moment.

 

**-MNIYR-**

 

Ollivander glanced up as a new customer stepped inside his shop. He knew the smell of a newly arrived student, a client or an enquirer and this one was definitively a student. What he did not expect though, was his incredible resemblance to James Potter. The thought of his former customer briefly brought him to the stories and legends surrounding his lost son. Harry Potter was widely known to have been given away by his godfather to an unknown party, and that had been the starting point of the wildest rumors. Had the wandmaker not known the boy had vanished from the wizarding world years ago, he would have thought his new customer to be him.

Come to think of it, Harry Potter would have been about to enter his first year in Hogwarts , had he been alive. And this boy, with his thin glasses, his green eyes, his long braided black hair –and was that a pearl earring on his left…? Never mind –this boy could be him. But the magical core… The child might have James Potter’s features, Ollivander couldn’t reconcile his magical core with the deceased family’s.

Many wizards wondered how Ollivander so easily identified their family kinships. The answer was easy; each family had their own magical core and he had a gift to recognize them. The Potters were no exception and while his new customer carried a similar core signature, it wasn’t the same. _But still, this boy…_

The fact puzzled him so much he missed the opportunity to make the grand entrance that freaked out everyone –the one where he slid from his ladder, which he was particularly proud of. The door opened again and this time a woman stepped in. Early to mid twenties, fiery red back-length hair, pale skin and intense green eyes. Muggle, his mind registered immediately as he couldn’t feel a magical core. He suddenly felt a little grim. He didn’t mind muggles, truly, but dealing with muggles when their offspring came to buy a wand could turn into a nightmare. They’d ask infinite questions, make snide remarks, used odd references of their preconceived vision of magic or even attempt to _try_ a wand. Ollivander hoped dearly the woman didn’t belong to that category.

“Excuse me, sir?” the boy called out, waving in his direction. “Are you Mr. Ollivander?”

The wandmaker suddenly realized the boy had spotted him in the dim darkness and was talking to him. He grudgingly stepped down from his ladder and walked up to them.

“That would be correct.” He replied good-naturally. “Another Hogwarts attendee?”

“Yes sir,” the boy answered, staring at him straight in the face with in self-confidence rarely found in an eleven year old. He glanced around at various wands and asked: “So…how does this work?”

Ollivander snapped his fingers, calling the measuring tape. Both the boy and the woman tensed as it started to take measurements but the older man explained calmly:

“I need these to pick up details to help me sort the perfect wand for you. Your name?” he asked feigning nonchalance.

The boy glanced at the woman, who shrugged.

“Yakov Romanov, sir. This is my mother.” He added defiantly, as if daring the wand maker to argue that point. The redhead seemed slightly amused for some reason.

“Romanov…” Ollivander trailed off. “Russian, isn’t it? I would think you enroll into-”

“I received a letter for Hogwarts, not any other place.” The boy cut in, annoyed, and earning a disapproving glance from his mother.

Feeling he overstepped his boundaries, Ollivander backed off and focused on finding the perfect wand. The Romanov family wasn’t quite familiar to him so he didn’t know where to start. He picked up the first one he thought compatible and handed it to him. Yakov Romanov took the wand, stared at it a few seconds before turning towards his mother.

“Don’t look at me,” the redhead said, the first words she had spoken since she had entered the shop. Her voice was deeper and huskier than he’d expect. Perhaps she was older than she looked. “I don’t know what you’re supposed to do with this.”

“Just wave it,” Ollivander helpfully imputed.

The boy did. Nothing happened. The wandmaker took the wand away and handed him another. The next one didn’t fit. Neither did the others and soon enough empty boxes were piling up in a corner. It made Ollivander happy though. He loved difficult clients.

“May I try something?” Yasha asked eventually, obviously irritated after the twentieth –or was it the thirtieth?-wand he tried. Ollivander raised a questioning eyebrow. “Please sir? We’re just wasting time here.”

Without waiting for an answer, the boy walked down the nearest aisle, arm stretched so that his fingers brushed the boxed wands. Ollivander watched him proceed, too intrigued by the boy’s boldness to retaliate. Yakov Romanov suddenly stopped in front of a shelf and pulled one out. To Ollivander’s surprise, sparkles of red and gold erupted when he tried the one he had picked. A perfect match.

“I assume this means it’s the right one?” the boy asked almost smugly. Ollivander managed to pick up his jaw fairly quickly, although not quite managing to hide his disappointment.

“Yes it is…” he stepped closed, observed the wand closely, and his heart nearly stopped. It was 11 inches long, made of holly and had a phoenix feather core. “Young man, have you heard of the dark wizard, You-Know-Who?”

The boy frowned, but the name obviously rang a bell. Even the muggle woman suddenly took interest in their conversation.

“You-know-who? You mean Voldemort?” Ollivander nearly winced at the name. “Sure, here and there. What about him?”

The wandmakermarked a heavy pause and confessed:

“It is a rare occurrence, but as it happens…” he trailed off and noticed the bored expressions on both face. Ollivander held back a heavy sigh; they would not be impressed by his tale it seemed. “The Phoenix feather used as a core to your wand was not the only one. Another feather was donated from that same Phoenix and made into another wand, Voldemort’s.”

In spite of the deep meaning of the words, the boy looked unimpressed.

“Great. Hear that mom? My wand has the same core as a mass-murderer’s.” Mrs. Romanov rolled her eyes. “Thank you for the oh-so-helpful information, sir.”

The muggle woman spoke for the second time:

“Why tell us this?”

“It’s just…fascinating.” He said in his most impressionable acting. “Brother wands are rare, I believe you and You-Know-Who are likely to cross paths in the future.”

The boy stared at him intensely.

“Is that magical destiny or some cra- some prophecy?” he amended at the woman’s raised eyebrow. Ollivander was slightly disappointed his words had so little effect. That, or the two had excellent poker faces.

“Fate has its way, I’m afraid.”

“ _Fate_ is a word and nothing else.” The woman snapped dryly, eyes narrowed and arms crossed firmly. “Yasha, we’re done here. How much is that thingworth?”

They paid the due and left the store. Ollivander watched them until they disappeared from his sight. He hesitated a moment and seeing no other client was arriving, turned back in the depths of his workshop, firmly deciding to write a letter to a certain headmaster.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! Nothing much to say, aside from thanks for all the kudos and comments :D  
> Hope you'll enjoy this new chapter ^^

**Chapter 3**

 

The clock indicated five in the morning but Natalia was still wide awake. In a couple hours, she would have to wake up her boy and take him to the train station and watch him ride away to an unknown destination. She hated this situation. She hated that he would be far beyond her reach, in the middle of a bunch of wizards who probably wouldn't hesitate to use him for their own political ends. She hated this, but it was a necessary evil.

Things hadn't been looking good for her lately, especially with that annoying tail following her. She couldn't help the dreading feeling that a face-to-face confrontation wouldn't end in her favor, and she needed Yasha far away if the worst-

Yasha muttered something in his sleep and shifted until he reached a more comfortable position. Natalia smiled briefly and brushed a strand of hair off his face. He had inherited so much of James Potter's features, people would undoubtedly figure out his origins sooner rather than later. The proof was that old wandmaker who had nearly recognized him on spot, even though the magical world had no idea what he looked like.

Then again, the fact that he had not been invited as 'Harry Potter' by his school would likely play in their favor. And during their visit at Gringotts, she had learned that some people had tried to access his vault. Some had demanded an account, probably to check if anyone related to the Potters (aka their son) had retrieved money. Thankfully, as the goblin at the reception desk had told her, Gringotts truly valued the privacy of their clients, and since the Potters were old money, their protectiveness knew no bounds.

What worried her most was that goddamn wand. Yasha had been quite flippant about it and had found the situation stupidly ironic, but not she. If that old goat was right and the choice would lead her boy straight to an encounter with his parents' murderer, Hogwarts was probably the worst place for Yasha to go. Yet paradoxically, sending him there was the also the best way to protect him. If he was recognized, no-one would allow  _anything_ happen to him. If she disappeared, the magical community would take care of him. Plus, she had given him the tools to succeed, had taught him to think and rely on himself and to fight when needed. Taking in account his stubbornness and temper, Natalia knew he would go far in life, with or without her. He was better prepared than she ever was; he would survive.

She most feared that in case she  _did_  died by the hand of her tail, Yasha would shake heaven and hell to find her murderer and kill him himself. That one time Red Room operatives had caught her and nearly ended her…Natalia closed her eyes to chase away the memory. Now was not the time to ponder over these thoughts.

The boy clenched his fist in his pillow before releasing it with a sigh. Natalia chuckled and ran her hand through his hair. Watching him sleep was one of her rare guilty pleasures. Tomorrow, he would be miles away and she would be alone for the first time in years. She closed her eyes and, in a rare moment of vulnerability, let a tear glide down her cheek.

She would definitely miss him.

_**King's Cross Station** _

They had gone together to the train station for once and not on their separate ways and for that Yasha was grateful. He'd never admit it out loud but he was nervous about this. A part of him genuinely wanted to go to that wizard school, but another part wanted to turn around and get the hell out of there with his mother in tow. They hadn't been separate for more than a couple of days in years and without Natalia by his side, his self-confidence would drastically deflate.

Thank God he had managed to tuck his beloved violin in his luggage. He had a feeling he'd need to cling to something familiar in the first few weeks.

"Keep your eyes open for others like you." Natalia's voice brought him back on the ground. "I know about the procedure to reach the platform but I'm not quite sure about the exact location."

"We just need to look for kids pushing carts bigger than themselves," Yasha pointed out flippantly, waving at his own cart. His furniture took up a lot of space; he hated needing to carry so much stuff. What if he needed to run? He'd loathe leaving his things behind.

They soon spotted a redhead woman pushing a cart with tons of luggage followed by three teenagers, all boys including twins, another boy about Yasha's age and a slightly younger girl, babbling about muggles everywhere. Yasha and Natalia exchanged a look, wondering if this could go any easier. They followed the redhead family from afar for a while, until they stopped to face a ticket barrier. What appeared to be the eldest son launched forwards, but Yasha didn't quite follow his moves as a group of tourist obscured his view momentarily. When they moved away, the boy was gone. One of the twins spotted them and elbowed his brother. Or rather, they noticed  _Natalia_. Yasha winced inwardly; his mother looked deceptively young and, thanks to that extremely attractive face and figure of hers, often caught gazes. She had used her charms a lot before to distract people from him. Sometimes, he really wished people stopped staring at her like she was eye candy and one day, he knew he would end up punching someone.

"Excuse me," Natalia called out. The twins swiftly looked away, embarrassed at being caught and the supposed witch turned around. Yasha pushed his cart closer and let his mother speak: "I'm sorry to bother you, but it's my boy's first year. He needs to go to the Station platform 9 ¾, but I'm not sure how to…"

"You must be muggles!" the mother of the tribe chipped in, looking absolutely thrilled. The use of the term muggle confirmed their suspicions; she at least belonged to the magical world. "Don't worry, it's not a rare occurrence. It's Ron's first year too," she added, nudging her youngest son who nodded with pride.

"That's…nice," Natalia said blandly. "Listen, I'm sorry but I have to leave for a meeting. Do you mind making sure my boy makes to the Hogwarts Express?"

"You're not staying?" Yasha asked with a hint of surprise and disappointment. Natalia grimaced.

"Мне очень жаль, Яша, но у меня есть поклонник  _(I'm sorry Yasha, but I have an admirer)_."

"Oh." So she  _had_  been followed lately. That didn't sound good.

The witch looked disappointed for another reason.

"Shame, I would have  _loved_  to talk about the muggle world." She smiled warmly at Yasha. "Say your goodbyes then, I'll be waiting."

Natalia looked all-too-relieved to pawn him off, but Yasha wouldn't question her motives. If she couldn't stay, then the danger was closer than he suspected. She crouched to be at his level and cupped his cheeks with both hands.

"Ты моя самая большая гордость (You are my greatest pride)" she whispered gently. "и всегда будешь, несмотря ни на что. Всегда помни это. ( _And_ _will_ _always_ _be_ _,_ _no_ _matter_ _what_ _happens_ _,_ _always remember that_ )." She stood up and kissed his forehead gently. "Иди и сделай так, чтобы я гордилась тобой еще больше.  _(_ _Now go and make me even prouder)."_

Yasha felt uneasy all of a sudden. His mother never spoke so seriously, like she was saying  _that_  kind of farewell.

"And you, be careful" he replied and added firmly: " _Я буду ждать тебя здесь, когда вернусь.(_ _I'll be waiting for you when I return)_."

She gave him a reassuring smile that did not ease his concerns. A last squeeze on his shoulder, a thank you to the witch and she walked away. Yasha watched her mingle and vanish into the crowd with a pang in his chest. This was it. He was leaving for Hogwarts. He took one last deep breath and turned towards the witch.

She smiled warily at him. Yasha suspected she didn't like not understanding their dialogue, but he wasn't going to translate for her anyway. He gave her a perfectly innocent smile.

"So how can I reach the train, ma'am?" he asked. She snapped back into the moment and replied:

"It's easy really. Do you see the ticket barrier over there…"

**HPXOA**

Natalia walked out of King's Cross mildly angry. She wished she could have followed her boy up to the train and wave goodbye as the train left the station, but it had become too dangerous. The same set of eyes she had felt earlier that week had been on her five minutes ago, and she couldn't - _wouldn't_ \- put Yasha in harm's way. The moment she stepped outside, she hurried down the main street, feeling her follower's gaze immediately on her back.

There weren't many people on the street, but she figured her tail would rather kill her away from eye witnesses. After all, he hadn't tried to approach her in the train station. And given the way he seemed to favor the rooftops, she'd bet on a sniper. So she mingled with the crowd as long as she could and slipped away into a small toyshop. She had ordered a taxi to bring them to the station and she had avoided more than a minimum of contact with the outside world the past few days. But it seemed her precautions weren't enough. Natalia wasn't quite surprised though; if her tail was as good as she suspected, he was already trying to figure out a place where he could take the shot or weighing his options on whether he should take the risk and eliminate her in plain sight.

Natalia made the choice for him and walked out of the shop by the backdoor, entering an alley she knew would be too uncomfortable for him to take a clear shot and barely large enough for hand-to-hand. Her tail would have to follow her there if he wanted to do his job, or wait for another opportunity that may never come. Now that Yasha was gone, she was free to vanish deeply underground for a while.

_**Hogwarts Express** _

The train had been gone for a little less than ten minutes when the door of Yasha's compartment opened and Ron, the youngest son of the redhead witch, peeked in. Mrs Weasley –that was her name –had ordered her twins to help him load his luggage and wished him a good year before he climbed into the train, and he had locked himself in the first empty place he had found.

And those ten minutes had been enough to remind him why he really, really, really hated train travel. Put him on a plane, a helicopter, a boat, a race car or a motorbike, or even push him from a goddamn cliff with nothing else but a parachute, he was perfectly fine. Heck, he had actually jumped off a cliff with a paragliding with his mother last year –an amazing experience. But the dull, repetitive and uncomfortable rocking of a train? No need for a bloodthirsty psycho murderer. That would definitively finish him off.

"Hey," Ron greeted quietly. "Can I sit there? The other ones are full."

Yasha shrugged, his hands tightening slightly around the random book he had pulled out of his suitcase to pretend being busy, and not about to puke at any moment.

"It's a free country." He said, and acted as if he was returning to a lost page.

"What's it written in?" the redhead asked, eying said book with curiosity. Yasha nearly rolled his eyes.

"Russian."

"You can read Russian?" Nod. "Can you speak Russian?"

"Da," Yasha replied, eyes narrowing on the letters without actually reading them. He felt the beginning of a headache forming and if Weasley went on-

"So, you lived there?"

"I lived in many places," Yasha said dismissively, achingly hoping Weasley would leave him alone.

But he didn't. And for the next half-hour, Ron kept asking questions and questions and kept talking and talking about the magic world. Because of course, he  _had_  to learn that Yasha came from a muggle background and of course, coming from a muggle background, he must know squat about the magical world, so Ron was more than willing to introduce him. In spite of the near constant silence and the dismissive responses, Yasha had to admire the redhead's persistence. Weasley seemed either incapable of taking a hint or just plain determined to make of Yasha his first friend. Still, the incessant chatter did not alleviate Yasha's growing headache. Or the nausea.

"Do you have a pet?" Ron asked eagerly. Yasha shook his head and the redhead pulled out something grey from his pocket. "I have a rat, Scabbers. It was my brother's, Percy, but I kinda  _inherited_  him when he got an owl…"

Yasha suddenly forget everything about his headache, his nausea, the annoying Weasley. His eyes were instantly drawn to the rodent…

… _jumped out of the dumpster, squeaking as they ran past by him, leaving in their wake some traces, some prints_ _whose_ _color reminded him_ _oddly_ _of a dark red and suddenly he realized a few of them were actually covered with blood and one was staring at him with those dark, gleaming eyes but all he could see was the goddamn blood and a feeling of dread and panic rising within because those rats came from the exact direction she had gone to and…_

"Put it away." Yasha ordered coldly. Ron blinked in surprise.

"Wha-"

"I said, put that disgusting little creep away!" Yasha snapped, hands itching to grab the rodent and twist its neck. Ron misunderstood his feelings and spoke with a nonchalance that angered Yasha even more.

"He's not going to hurt you, you kn-"

"I DON'T GIVE A FUCK!" This time, Yasha jumped to his feet, ready to just grab the damn thing. The rat looked frozen in fear all of a sudden. "Put it away or I will take care of the damn little shit myself!"

Weasley stared at him, stunned by the vehemence and anger in the other boy's voice, but Yasha ignored it. His whole focus was centered on the rodent fidgeting uncomfortably on Ron's laps.

The door slid open and a girl their age stepped in, a slightly plumpish boy peeked from behind her over her shoulder.

"What's going on in here?" The girl asked mildly annoyed, mildly angry and mildly anxious at the same. "We heard you yelling from the other side of the corridor."

The Weasley boy took advantage of the interruption to shove Scabbers in his pocket and warily glanced back at Yasha.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were afraid of rats."

"Not afraid of rats," Yasha said darkly. "I loathe them."

"Why that?" the redhead asked with curiosity.

"None of your business."

"Is that Hogwarts: A History? I think I recognize the cover."

The interruption came from the girl whose eyes had zeroed on the abandoned book on the seat. An odd glint had lit up in her eyes and her expression had turned all too solemn.

"Yeah?" Yasha replied warily.

The seriousness bloomed into a wide grin.

"I loved it! It was most interesting to find out how Hogwarts was founded and the evolution in history! What did you think of it?"

Yasha blinked at her.

"It was…informative?"

The answer seemed to please the girl, who beamed even wider.

"I'm Hermione Granger." The boy behind her shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "Oh, and he's Neville." She added. "What's your name?"

"Yakov Romanov."

Hermione frowned.

"Isn't that…"

"Yes it's a Russian name. No I am obviously not enrolling in a Russian school."

"Oh." She looked slightly offended. "Okay."

"And I'm Ron Weasley." The redhead inputted. The two ignored him.

"I think the book contains everything you need to know about Hogwarts when you just arrive." Hermione went on. "I'm muggle-born, so I didn't know anything about the wizarding world before I received my letter."

Yasha had the feeling she was assuming he was muggle-born as well. He didn't feel like correcting her.

"I'll just…go look for Trevor." Neville said quietly. Hermione suddenly looked crestfallen and guilty. "My toad," the boy added. "I lost him."

"I'll go with you!" Ron immediately volunteered, looking suddenly eager to leave the room. Perhaps the perspective of staying alone with Yasha again didn't suit him well. Not that Yasha was complaining; now that the anger from the rat episode was fading, the motion sickness was coming back in a vengeance. The boys didn't waste time leaving the compartment, abandoning Hermione behind. To Yasha's dismay, she looked rather eager to sit down and –

"You should go with the boys." Yasha said immediately, and before she could object, added quickly: "I've got motion sickness. Won't be great company."

Disappointment filled her face, but to his relief, she nodded in understanding.

"Are you sure you don't want company?"

"Actually, talking gives me a headache," he said, and boy why hadn't he just manned up and told Weasley earlier? That would have spared him some suffering. "We can talk later."

"Okay. Sure." She mumbled. "See you later."

The door was shut again. Yasha returned to his seat and closed his eyes. His stomach returned to its uneasy balancing and he focused his attention on controlling his breathing pattern. He could have easily swallowed a few pills before getting on board, but hell would freeze over before he'd rely on some potion or drug to make him feel better. Even Natalia couldn't force him, unless he was on the brink of death –which, thankfully, had never happened.

On the bright side, he was now alone to deal with his misery.

Or not.

Barely five minutes later, the door slid open again and this time, three boys stood in the threshold. The leader, a blonde with hair thrown back and seemingly held in place by gel, stepped in, followed by what appeared to be two kid gorillas in size and brains. Yasha wanted to curse or hit something. Quietness and loneliness helped him deal with the sickness and being interrupted every five minutes would not help his stomach to settle. He truly hoped those three would scram soon before an accident happened. The blonde stared straight at him.

"Are you Harry Potter?"

The only thing that stopped Yasha from answering was a sudden jerk from the train and the unhappy response from his stomach. The blonde kid took his silence for a yes and suddenly looked smug.

"I was told you might be on the train. These are Crabbe and Goyle," he pointed the two gorillas behind him, not quite indicating who was who. "I am Draco Malfoy, one of the most prestigious Pureblood families left here."

In spite of his age –assuming he was eleven too –the Malfoy kid spoke like those old aristocrats in movies, proud of their status and arrogant about it. He was directly catalogued in the 'snobs –do not bother too much' chapter in Yasha's book.

"I've also heard you might have been raised in the muggle world. But if-"

"I'm not Harry Potter," Yasha blurted, hoping he would hold back long enough to have a short-timed conversation and convince them to leave him alone. Speaking, it seemed, had been a bad idea. Another wave of nausea, slightly stronger than the previous one, caught his throat.

Malfoy looked disappointed.

"Oh. Who are you then?"

Yasha didn't answer for two reasons: one, this was none of his business; two, opening his mouth right now would be a very,  **very**  bad idea.

"He doesn't look too good," Goyle –or was it Crabbe? –said. Malfoy ignored him and stepped closer, his face tight and slightly annoyed.

"I asked you a question," he said with poor authority. Yasha bet even Weasley could look more impressive if he tried. "What's your-"

Yasha's attempts to keep his mouth shout were vain.

He really, really,  _really_  hated the train.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read and enjoy :)

**Chapter 4**

 

_Hogwarts_

 

Yasha was all too glad to step on the solid, stable ground when the train came to a stop. He was one of the first down, but once again, he was set for another surprise altogether.

“Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here!”

At the end of the platform, a huge man was waving at the crowd of students. Big black beard, taller than anyone he had ever met, impressively large. Yasha bet he was a half-giant. Master Pietor had mentioned those people once, during his drunken moments. Stronger than any human, fast in spite of their size and exceptionally dangerous if they were angry at you. The boy could understand what his old mentor meant back then. That man –half-giant –could probably crush his skull with one hand.

“He’s huge!” he heard someone whisper in awe besides him. He didn’t need to turn around to recognize Weasley’s voice. The redhead kid hadn’t tried to approach him since they’d gotten down the train and he didn’t spot Malfoy-the-Pureblood among the crowd either. A part of him wanted to apologize for emptying his stomach on the boy’s clothes. Another part also felt that he wouldn’t be sorry for it later.

A hand brushed his shoulder and Yasha _didn’t_ jump in surprise, although he came too close to turn around and punch whoever had initiated a physical contact with him. He was glad he didn’t though. The Granger girl would have certainly not appreciated it.

“I looked for you everywhere!” she said in an annoyed tone. “I left the boys after they found Trevor but I couldn’t find your compartment anymore.” Then she dropped the tone and asked: “Are you all right?”

“I feel much better,” Yasha replied lightly. “The lady selling candies gave me something against motion sickness and I went for a walk.”

A total lie, but he wouldn’t admit he’d had to sneak out by the window and use his wandless magic to climb and lay back on the roof of the train for a while. And yes, he had nearly frozen to death thanks to the wind and cool air but at least he hadn’t been sick for the rest of the trip.

The crowd of first year students started moving and Yasha and Granger followed the pack. The half-giant led them to the border of the lake, and Yasha had to admit that the landscape was well-damned worth the long hours of suffering. The night has fallen like a dark velvet cover, and yet the castle was dominating the whole background, standing proudly on the stone, illuminated by tons of small windows. He wished Natalia was there with him. She would have loved this scenery.

“Come on Yakov, we need to get on a boat!” Hermione hissed impatiently. He followed her on a small embarkation and climbed in with two others kids. Everyone around him was fascinated by the landscape, eyes wide opened and Yasha could understand their reaction. He was engraving every bit in his memory himself.

“Everyone in?” the half-giant shouted. “Right then –FORWARD!”

They crossed the lake, arrived at the shore. Then, they stopped in front of a huge door and were led inside.The architecture didn’t impress Yasha as much as he’d hope. Hogwarts was a fine castle, no mistake there, but he’d seen better. Take all the refined castlesall over Europe and the magnificent churches…

“They say the castle was built centuries ago by the Founders.” Next to him, the Granger girl kept babbling about things she had read in Hogwarts A History. Apparently, just like the Weasley boy, she had decided he was worthy of being her first friend. “And the ceiling of the Great Hall was bewitched to look like the sky.”

He turned around and sent her an unwavering stare.

“Granger, this is all very interesting but no-one is listening. Please be quiet.”

The girl looked hurt, but complied when she realized he was right. They climbed up the stairs until they reached the top, where a severe-looking witch was waiting for them.

_‘Do all wizards have a thing for drama?’_ Yasha wondered as the elderly woman started her introduction speech with a pinning stare and a strict voice. And he clearly noticed when she mentioned Gryffindor first and Slytherin last. Favorites much? She looked very scholarly in a witch-y way, with her hair tied back in and her body wrapped in that emerald green robe and tilted hat. Very English, although her accent was more Scottish. He noticed she didn’t keep her wand at hand; probably in her pocket or in a wand hostler. She obviously didn’t expect any of the students to be a danger to her.

When she left and no-one followed, Yasha glanced at Granger and asked:

“Where is she going?”

The girl stared at him in disbelief.

“She just said she’d be back. Weren’t you listening?”

He was. He just hoped he had somehow missed a part of her speech.

Someone up there had decided Yasha wouldn’t be able to reply to anyone today without being interrupted, for a boyish gasp caught everyone’s attention. About twenty transparent, black and white picture-like men and women had just entered the room from a main corridor and some were welcoming them in turn. Yasha cursed. Goddamn _ghosts_. He hoped these ones wouldn’t try to live up to French ghosts’ reputation and haunt the corridors seeking outliving gossip.

Next to him, Granger gasped in surprise and fear. He felt compelledto reassuringly pat her shoulder. She gave him a grateful smile, which he didn’t know how to reply to. Most of the kids had apparently never met a ghost before and they were all gawking. Yasha took advantage of that moment to glance at his surroundings and, out of habit, identifiedthe exit routes. None of the ones he found were favorable for a discreet escape, he noted, but in every old castle there were hidden secret passages. Now that was one thing he’d have to figure out this year whenever he had the time.

“What are you looking at?”

Granger again. Yasha didn’t bother answering this time, since inevitably fate would prevent him from doing so. And he was right, as he spotted the elderly witch returning from wherever she had been. Had she departed on purpose to let the newcomers be impressed by the ghosts?

“Move along now,” she said sharply –what was her name by the way? She hadn’t introduced herself yet, had she? “The Sorting Ceremony’s about to start.”

Large doors opened in front of them, and the bunch of first years entered what Yasha supposed to be the Great Hall. His eyes immediately darted upwards. Candles were lighting the whole room, and above, a blue night sky replaced the ceiling. He had to admit whoever created it had been good at his job. The crowd of students stopped at the edge of the tables, and the elderly witch set an old hat on a stool. The hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide and it began to sing.

_“Oh you might not think I’m pretty…”_

Yasha wanted to roll his eyes. A singing hat? Really? He listened to the lyrics and understood the hat was basically asking the kids to trust him with the sorting. So the Sorting Ceremony was nothing but a future student sitting on a chair, and waiting for the name of a house to be screamed by an old hat? Yasha was truly disappointed. He was hoping for some wrestling or something more challenging. But according to the reaction of majority of students, perhaps the gentle method was the best. He just sighed, crossed his arms, and waited.

Crabbe and then Goyle were both sorted to Slytherin. Next to him, Hermione started fidgeting, tensed and edgy but impatient all the same. She had kept quiet since he had told her to, something he was grateful for; since he had a vague impression she tended to babble when nervous.

“Granger, Hermione.”

She inhaled sharply and moved forwards. Yasha watched her with some form of amusement as she sat on the chair and eagerly set the hat over her eyes. The hat didn’t take long to make a decision.

“ **GRYFFINDOR!** ”

Hermione’s grin was so bright the boy figured the candles were a waste. Still, he ignored the dejected feeling settling in his guts as he watched her leave to join her table. He was starting to like her and really wished they would stay in contact if he was sorted in another House. After reading Hogwarts: A History; he had a feeling he’d end up in Slytherin.

Students went by. A few faces he remembered from the crowd were sorted. The Neville boy was sent in Gryffindor. Everyone was thrilled and the Head of each House tried their best not to look too smug when a new student was sent among them.

After a while, Yasha noted the hat didn’t have a precise time set to make a choice. Some kids –take Longbottom - made the suspense last a full minute; unlike Malfoy, who was sorted the moment the hat brushed his head. How did the hat sort them, by the way? It appeared that it made its choice according to the things it read in the students’ mind, but Yasha hadn’t given it much thought until now. What did the hat see exactly? Would it report to the headmaster, or anyone?

“Romanov, Yakov.”

Yasha climbed the steps, one by one, slowly, and discreetly took a closer look at his future teachers. They varied in size and age and some were staring at him intensely. Yasha frowned noticeably as his gaze crossed the oldest, probably the headmaster, Dumbledore. Something clicked and his instincts screamed not to trust him. An odd glint appeared in the man’s eye and right after, a gentle nudge in his mind. Was that old goat trying to read…Yasha nearly stopped to call the mighty wizard out, but figured he might as well be subtle for now. He conjured in his mind instead a vivid image of him flipping the bird. The headmaster blinked in surprise and Yasha smirked smugly.

“Please sit,” the elderly witch ordered when he arrived. The large hat fell over his eyes, hiding the Great Hall from his view. And suddenly, he heard a voice in his head.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

Yasha nearly jumped out of his bones but somehow managed to keep his position stiff –if she’d seen him, Natalia would be _so_ proud.

“Calm down boy, calm down,” the hat said, clearly amused by his reaction. “I’m just here to sort you in your house; after that, you’ll have no more interaction with me.”

_“Thank God for small mercies,_ ” Yasha mumbled. The next sentence made him freeze though:

“It is surprising you have been invited at Hogwarts as Yakov Romanov, and not Harry Potter.”

_“Harry Potter? I thought that guy was dead._ ” Yasha said innocently. The hat ‘tss-ed’ and went on:

“You and I both know you are him. Although I do feel a deep change in your magical core, as if something has been withdrawn from your soul…”

_“If you are referring to the ritual Goblins practiced on me to get rid of some nasty piece of dark magic an asshole stuck in my soul, then yeah, my magic core has been meddled with.”_ Yasha replied dryly. “ _My mother largely overpaid those creeps for that and trust me, it wasn’t an easy process.”_

The hat’s interest peeked at that, but Yasha didn’t want to remember that particular moment any longer. The extraction had been a nightmare –bloody and painful and he had nearly died he recalled- but once done, Yasha had truly felt like a weight had been lifted from his mind. On the minus side, he had lost that scar on his forehead. He kinda missed it afterwards, the strange lightening shape made him look totally badass.

“So they retrieved the…’nasty piece of dark magic’ from your soul, but you kept its properties…Interesting…Boy, are you a Parselmouth?”

_“A what?”_

“Can you speak to snakes?”

Yasha frowned.

_“Is that any of your business? Are you actually a voyeur-stalker in disguise?”_

“You have one of the most distracting mind I’ve ever read.” The hat protested. “I’m actually having fun trying to figure it out.”

_“Glad to be your one-time magazine. But don’t overexert yourself, I already know where I want to go.”_

“Slytherin, eh? You are not taking the easy way.”

_“I’m not particularly brave or hard-working or creative or loyal –except to mother.”_ Yasha pointed out. _“But I can play others better than most people and I love it. And you’re giving me a choice between a House of Nerds, a House of Sheep, a House of Idiots and a House of Backstabbers. Seriously, my mind’s been made up since I read Hogwarts: A History.”_

“I wouldn’t rush if I were you.” The hat tried to smoother his determination. “You have an extraordinary path waiting ahead,” Yasha peeked up, suddenly interested. “Every house could…”

_“Wait a sec, you’re saying you can see my future?”_

“I have glimpses of where some paths might lead you” the hat admitted.

_“Will I become a violinist?”_ he asked, suddenly more excited.

“Sorry, whatever I see needs to be kept quiet.”

_"_ козел _"_ ( _goat_ ) Yasha cursed under his breath.

“Pardon? What did you say?”

_“You don’t understand Russian? I thought you were a magic hat.”_

“Watch your tongue.” The hat warned, although it did sound a little annoyed.

_“Whatever. So, where are you sending me? With the Idiots? The Nerds?”_

“I’m still trying to figure that one out.” It mumbled, apparently annoyed at having a first-year arguing with it.

_“How come you’re so slow? I’ve been sitting here too long. It took between ten to fifty seconds for everyone else. Barely one if you include that bleached haired kid.”_

“Draco Malfoy?”

_“Yeah, him.”_ Yasha paused, suddenly thinking over something. _“Did you make it quick because you didn’t want to find out what was in his head?”_

“Kid, I’m warning you…”

_“Given the way he talks, he’s just an arrogant know-it-all. Lemme guess, his head was a black hole and you were scared of being sucked into it?”_

“Why do I even try?” the hat muttered, dejected. “You’ll get what you want anyway. **_Slytherin_**!”

"Тывсюмалинуиспортил! _(you spoilsport)_ " Yasha protested out loud this time –he was starting to have fun with that odd mind-reading hat- and glared at it as the elderly witch retrieved it.

She gave him a surprised look, to which he apologized quickly before hurrying to join the Slytherin table. Most of his classmates –or housemates?- welcomed him with crocked grins and snobbish attitude. He disliked them already but grudgingly sat at a free spot. A few of them –including Malfoy, stared at him warily from afar. He ignored them and checked out for Hermione at the Gryffindor’s table. The girl looked truly disappointed. Yasha shrugged apologetically. She replied with a soft smile of her own before being sucked in a conversation with her neighbour. Yasha then managed to catch Weasley among the yet-sorted crowd and the redhead was literally glowering at him. Yasha stared back with his eyebrows lifted in a way that would have made his mother proud until Weasley looked away.

“Hi, my name’s Lucian Bole!” a boy, perhaps a year or two older, sitting next to him said cheerfully. Yasha stared at him for a few seconds, searching for any signs of him being an idiot or a manipulative bastard, and since he found nothing, reluctantly replied:

“Yakov Romanov.”

“I know; you were just sorted.” Yasha stared at him blankly, but it didn’t discourage Lucian. “Are you a Pureblood? I heard the Romanov family was very influent in Russia.”

Pureblood. Malfoy’s kind of family. Yasha felt that word would annoy him a lot in the future.

“Don’t know, don’t want to know and honestly don’t care.” He replied dryly. “What’s that thing with blood anyway? Blood is blood. No matter how pure it is, if you don’t have any in your body, you die, period. That’s the only important thing.”

His words were met by uneasy silence. A few snorted in amusement. Lucian Bole seemed to immediately lose interest and leaned away, as if not being a Pureblood was a sort of disease. An older student explained:

“Calm down, we’re talking about whether your parents are wizards or no. If one of your parents is a muggle you’re a half-blood. If both your parents are muggles, you’re muggle-born. If both-”

“-if both are wizards, I’d be a pureblood, I got that.” He paused and smirked: “So what happens if your grandmother is a muggle, but your mother a wizard, and your father comes from a Pureblood family? Am I a half-blood? A pureblood?” When the student didn’t reply, he added: “I stand by my word. Blood is blood. Without any in your body, you die.”

“You’re morbid.” A girl sitting across him said with a frown on her face.

“Thank you,” he replied with his best charming smile. “And you are?”

“Daphne Greengrass,” she replied reluctantly, like she would rather feed a snake. Yasha felt he’d have fun teasing this one and returned his attention to the remaining students to be sorted. It was Weasley’s turn and he was sent to Gryffindor. Hermione looked annoyed as hell.

“Are you looking at the Gryffindor table?” The older student asked, and Yasha knew that one would not leave him alone.

“Is there a problem with that?”

“It’s just surprising. Gryffindors and Slytherins are rivals.”

_Please, tell me something I don’t already know,_ he thought, annoyed. While the older student kept babbling about the history of the two houses he had already read, Yasha let his mind wander. This place, Hogwarts, didn’t quite live up to his expectations aesthetically-wise, but he was still impatient to start classes. Especially Transfiguration and Potions. Those would be useful in unexpected situations.

Suddenly the headmaster stood up and gave his welcoming speech. Yasha listened to the announcements –forbidden forest, no magic in the corridors, Quidditch and…forbidden third level? Well if _that_ wasn’t a call for curious students to take a look…Figuring he had heard enough, Yasha only halfway listened to the rest of the speech and busied himself observing the rest of the students. The elders paid mild attention to the old wizard while the younger recruits stared at him like he was a superstar. Dumbledore, Yasha remembered, was a war hero and a powerful wizard after all. Those didn’t mean he was trustworthy though. Take the recent mind-reading attempt. In contrast, Natalia was a spy and an assassin, and yet a better human being that most ‘normal’ people he’d met out there.

The boy smirked and stared back at the dishes as they magically got filled with well-prepared food. No-one looked surprised and started digging, so he imitated them. He’d have to ask what the cook put in the sauce that made it so tasty. He liked to know who prepared his food anyway.

Conversations flooded over but he paid no attention to them and with the answers he had given earlier and his aloof attitude, no-one was eager to engage with him either. He finished his meal quietly, musing over what would tomorrow bring. If the school didn’t live up to his expectations, he decided he would quit after a few months and enter a music school like he had originally planned.

 

**_Hogwarts,_ ** **_Headmaster’s office_ **

 

Snape breathed in deeply to sooth the irritation he felt inside. Ten years ago, Lily, his childhood friend, his first love, had died, leaving him heartbroken with nothing but memories to hold onto. He had tried to get over her, really, but the news of her murder had destroyed him. He wasn’t overly upset by the loss of Potter himself, but the kidnapping of the youngest member of the family had shaken him. The child was Lily’s son, a part of her he could have grown to accept. On the other hand, that child was Potter’s too, so maybe not accepted, but tolerated. But whoever had the boy had vanished to some unknown location and Black had been as quiet as a tomb on the subject. Still, a part of him had hoped to see that lost boy attending Hogwarts, but no Potter had been Sorted tonight.

Dumbledore of course, had been tight-lipped about the whole matter, which didn’t help his mood at all. And on top of that, the headmaster had asked him to come to his office to ‘discuss’ something while he perfectly knew his potion teacher would not be inclined to listen to whatever he had to say. Snape had long ago accepted that the old wizard was the greatest of his century, but he resented being ordered around like a lackey. But he wouldn’t leave Hogwarts. It has become his home for the past ten years.

“You called, headmaster?” he asked once the entrance was granted, not bothering to hide his annoyance. Dumbledore nodded and gave him one of his grandfatherly smiles that unnerved him so much.

“Yes, and thank you for coming so quickly. I have a favor to ask of you; would you keep an eye on Professor Quirrell please?”

“The new DADA teacher?” Dumbledore nodded. “Fine. Anything else?” he asked sarcastically.

“Actually, yes. Could you send young Yakov Romanov to my office immediately?”

Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Yakov Romanov?” he repeated.

“Yes, he was sorted in your house tonight. He had a long conversation with the Hat.”

The potion master vaguely remembered the dark-haired boy and his indignant face as the Hat had screamed his house. He himself hadn’t paid attention, too busy hiding how defeated he actually felt.

“Why?”

The old man caressed his beard absentmindedly, already deep in thoughts.

“I suspect Yakov Romanov is not his real name.” he said, and the next sentence shocked Snape: “Harry Potter might still be alive after all.”

 

**_3 days later, Paris_ **

 

Natalia hadn’t gone to Paris for a while, so she was quite sure the apartment she kept as a safehouse hadn’t been compromised. At first glance, given the layers of dust, she was right. No bugs, no cameras, just books and abandoned furniture. But she wasn’t satisfied all the same.

She had chosen this one for the location; not too far from public transportation for Yasha, next to a shopping center for the groceries, fourth floor next to the fire escape. It contained a living room, a kitchenette, two small bedrooms…a little small perhaps, but big enough for an adult and a child. The escape routes were easily accessible and the security good enough with her reinforcements, but she didn’t feel comfortable.

Her tail had vanished the previous day. Natalia wished she could give the credit to her skills, but she knew better. Whoever had been following her had backed off for some reason and it made her uneasy. She’d have to cover her tracts even more cautiously from now on. This place was a good start. If she was lucky, she could keep it a few weeks and –

The window of the living room exploded and an arrow embedded itself in the nearest mirror. Natalia barely had the time to catch the blinking dot on the head before it detonated.

The blow sent her flying against the nearest wall but not hard enough to knock her out. She hastily grabbed her guns and ran out of the room, ready to bolt out through the door. Unfortunately, she wasn’t alone anymore. A man dressed in black was standing in the corridor, a bow in hand, arrow in place ready to shoot. A quick glance at the remains of the window’s glass coming from the kitchen and she knew he had likely jumped off the opposite building and through that opening to sneak in.

“Don’t move,” the man ordered coldly. “Drop the weapons.”

If she tried anything now, he would release the arrow and even she wouldn’t be able to dodge it. Her head was spinning a little thanks to the blast and she was in no state to take him down now. Cursing herself for letting her guard down momentarily, Natalia obeyed and threw her guns on the floor. The man didn’t want her dead right away, or she’d already be.

“Back against the wall,” he ordered again. And she obeyed again, raising her hands in a defensive posture. She still subtly pushed her breasts forward and bit her lower lip. Any trick likely to distract him would come in handy now.

“What does the mighty Hawkeye wants with me?” she asked in her best husky and purring tone. The man barely blinked.

“You know my name.” It wasn’t a question, but she replied nonetheless:

“Not many colleagues use a bow nowadays.” A charming smile grew over her features. “Now maybe we can settle whatever grudge you have against me without your blood staining the carpet.”

“You are in no position to make a deal,” Hawkeye said briskly. “I only have one question and you better answer it.” She nodded like an obedient little girl. “Where is the boy?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am the absolute worst. Sorry for the delay; I will update faster next time ^^" And thanks for all the kudos and comments :)

**  
Chapter 5**

 

 

"What boy?" Natalia asked innocently.

An arrow suddenly brushed her face and embedded itself in the wall behind, pinning her hair with it. Before she could blink, he had another one ready to fire. Natalia glared at him, knowing he had missed on purpose.

"Don't fuck with me," the archer replied, tone cool but deadly angry. "The black-haired boy you dropped in the middle of King's Cross with that redhead family. Who is he?"

_Shit_. So he  _had_  been following them inside King's Cross. Natalia should have known accompanying Yasha while she was observed might bring attention on him. But she had never expected whoever issued the order to be after her boy.

"Intel says he's been with you for quite a while." He went on slowly, aware of her growing unease. "Now once again, where is the boy?"

Natalia thought quickly and set for the truth, although it might be perceived for a lie.

"Boarding school."

Surprisingly, Hawkeye tensed even further, his fear seemingly having been confirmed: his prey was out of reach.

"Boarding school?" he snorted, anger twisting his mouth into an ugly grimace. "You sent him to the Red Room?"

Oh.  _Oh_. Natalia blinked in understanding. Did he think she had been  _training_  Yasha? It made sense, she supposed. She had defected over twenty years ago and had burned the main facilities to the ground on the way out with a little bit of help. She had intended to bury them –and had done enough damage to weaken them for awhile. But if they were back into the game, and  _had_  she been loyal to them, Hawkeye –or whoever he was working for- would have good reasons to be worried. Thankfully, the mere thought of abandoning Yasha to her former instructors made her sick. It left her wondering if Hawkeye coming after them was a result of finding out about Yasha, or if Yasha's presence had been detected  _after_  deep investigation and surveillance.

"He's just a kid I was paid to keep an eye on," she replied eventually; which was basically true.

"And yet you still haven't given up his name or his location." Hawkeye pointed out, his voice even but suspicious. "What's your interest to keep his identity a secret if he's just a job?"

She kept quiet. Any other assassin would have starting to lose patience by now, but the archer remained still in his position, arrow ready to be loosed. Natalia figured he either desperately wanted to find a potential trail on the Red Room's location, or save the boy from becoming a Black Widow. Or rather, a Black Widower. She snorted internally; highly doubting the archer would find a magical castle in Scotland. In the meantime, her head was clearing from the pain and she remembered the not-so-innocent pins in her hair. The moment he got distracted, showed  _any_  sign of moving, she'd jump on him and slit his throat and…

A sudden thought occurred to her.

"The Red Room is emerging again?" she asked cautiously, but feeling the hints of fear creeping in.

Hawkeye stared at her intensely. She could see the wheels turning in his mind, pondering if she was truly unaware or if he was just following an old trail for nothing. It was impossible not to read her name if one got interested in the Red Room. She had been their greatest pride, after all. The thought of that organization's rebirth and Hawkeye's worry over Yasha's situation gave her an uneasy feeling. His mere presence here informed her that, yes, there was a great possibility that her old mentors were still alive and active. That brought up a new series of questions. What if the Red Room found out about Yasha? What if they went after him? What if they decided to take revenge on her by…

"Who do you work for? Who else knows?" she demanded hastily. Natalia needed to know how many people were likely to be aware of Yasha's existence, and if she could ensure some damage control.

"None of your business," he replied, but something had shifted in his stance, as if he was starting to put the pieces together. And then came the subtle sharp inhale, the barely widening in his eyes as realization dawn upon him.

"Wait a sec, he's  _yours_? But-"

Now that was the opening she needed.

Natalia plunged forwards, leaving behind a bunch of red hair and an arrow stuck in the wall. She moved fast enough to avoid any arrow fired in her direction and pounced on the assassin. Hawkeye cursed, fired wide and used his bow to counter her fists. She caught the bow, brought him to her and aimed for his groin. He jumped back just in time and then forwards, using his weight to unbalance her. Natalia held him back with one hand, the other reaching for one of her longer-than-necessary iron pins. A subtle twist of her body and change of balance and she sent him against the wall. The edge of her pin was fast firm against his neck. Hawkeye stopped moving, well aware she would push the thing into his throat if he attempted a move. And what a ridiculous death it would be, killed by a hair accessory.

"Who do you work for?" she hissed, pressing her pin against his skin. The archer narrowed his eyes at her angrily. Natalia was well aware that she was breathing too hard, that her eyes might be giving away the slight panic she felt inside. But her hand did not tremble, and she was certain he had noted it too. If the man was smart, he'd know giving up the name would let him live longer.

"Ever heard of SHIELD, sweetheart?" he hissed with a grin-grimace on his face.

SHIELD. Natalia felt a drop of sweat pearling down her temple. She had gotten on  _SHIELD's_  radar?

The secret organization was a secret for all but a few and she had kept clear of their area of expertise to ensure they wouldn't see her as a threat. SHIELD was rumored to be powerful and resourceful but also, and that was a  _fact_ , fighting for the greater good. It wasn't impossible that Hawkeye had been sent on her trace to find out if she was still working for the Red Room, had made the wrong assumption about Yasha, and had decided to act in accordance to the circumstances.

"I have a deal." she eventually said, releasing slightly the pressure on his throat. Hawkeye was still glaring, but was apparently listening. "I have outdated information on the Red Room, but it might still be useful." Natalie couldn't believe she was about to do this; playing on Yasha's safety by admitting his connection to her openly. "I will tell you what I know if you hire me. I can't protect  _him_  alone against them."

And Hawkeye just stared at her in silence. In a sign of goodwill, she stepped back, dropped the pin and raised her hands in defense. If he agreed to take her with him, she would use their resources to terminate the Red Room once and for all. If he didn't and decided to finish his job…well, once Yasha found out his real name, Hawkeye wouldn't have long to live.

"You love him," he eventually said. "That kid."

Natalia didn't reply and waited. She figured her silence was enough anyway. Hawkeye stared intensely at her for a moment, undecided. He eventually relaxed his shoulders in turn. His hand was still edging towards his bow, but at least he wasn't openly hostile anymore.

"You," he said with a deep sigh, "owe me  _ **big**_  time."

**Hogwarts, Slytherin Common room**

Classes had begun and after three days, Yasha already had an idea which ones would be worth taking an interest in. History of Magic was proven to be useless, so was studying the sky and learning planets' names –Natalia had already taught him the important parts. Herbology might be practical if he ever needed to recognize the plants for a potion. Potion classes were to start the next day with the Gryffindors, so he had yet to have an opinion. Although if they were with this Professor Snape, they might end up being somewhat worthwhile. He seemed to be an interesting fellow, and Yasha loved the way he flapped his cape when walking. Also, the man hadn't opposed  _headmaster_   _Dumbledork_  when Yasha had snapped at him the other night, but he hadn't sided with the senile goat either. Yasha tagged him 'neutral party' for the time being.

Earlier today, they had their first Transfiguration class with the elderly teacher, Professor McGonagall. Now  _that_  class would definitively be of use and Master Pietor had never shown him how to transfigure, so this was complete novelty. Except that Yasha had miserably failed his first exercise of turning a match into a needle. He refused to use wandless magic in class in order to blend in, and waving his wand had made him feel stupid. So he had pretended to concentrate on the exercise and at the end of the class, slipped his match in his pocket for later training. And now there he was, in an isolated part of the common room, trying to practice his apparently non-existent transfiguration skills.

Yasha waved his wand for the umpteenth time and hissed the spell. Nothing happened. He glared at the match. The harmless piece of wood remained unchanged.

"Fine," he muttered, setting his wand aside. "What is the problem here?"

He pressed his finger on the top of the match. As he whispered the words again, his finger slid over the object and the small wooden piece turned into silver. The edges weren't quite pointy but the change was definitively there. When Yasha retrieved his hand, the transfiguration held on and he smirked in victory and relief. Nothing was wrong with his magic, he just couldn't use his wand. Now that was problematic, especially since he had no intention of showing his hand at wandless.

Yasha sighed heavily. Of course, he could probably  _pretend_  to use his wand. Lifting and moving objects around would be easy: he only needed to raise his arm and wave his hand. But the rest would need more practice. See the recent example; physical contact was necessary for a halfway decent transfiguration. Not to mention the other things he could do that required his whole body to work. Take his 'shield'. No bullet could go through it, but he needed to be curled into a ball for it to be truly efficient…

Yasha put the match and his wand back in his pocket, shoving those thoughts away. Time for violin he decided. Since he has arrived at Hogwarts, he had yet to practice. Now was the perfect moment to do so.

He returned to his dormitory and retrieved the case holding his instrument. He shrunk it with his magic by tightening his fist till it reached the size of a dice and placed it safely in his inside pocket. Then he headed out, firmly determined to find a more comfortable and  _isolated_  place to practice.

Yasha was going through an empty corridor and pondering over a few options when he overhead some students speaking in a quiet tone:

"…sure it's allowed? I don't want troubles."

"We're doing nothing wrong. C'mon."

Out of the corner of the eye, he caught three first years Slytherin trying to act as natural as possible. Never to be said Yasha wasn't curious –because much to Natalia's annoyance, he was –so he did the first thing that came into mind. He followed them.

**Hogwarts, Headmaster's office.**

Dumbledore was puzzled. Honest-to-God puzzled. In a way, it amused Severus; he rarely saw the mighty wizard upset. The reunion with Yakov Romanov/maybe Potter hadn't gone as he had expected and it was eating him up inside. Dumbledore wasn't angry, per say, but he disliked when something or someone disrupted his plans. The Potion Master hid his smirk as he recalled the event one more time:

_Snape's robe flapped as he walked_ _through_ _the corridor determinedly. He ignored the ghosts and occasional teacher he passed by, only focused on Dumbedore's latest request._

"Could you bring young Yakov Romanov to my office Severus? I suspect 'Yakov Romanov' is not his real name. Harry Potter might still be alive after all."

_If the headmaster was right, and Snape had little doubt he wasn't, then the wizarding world was on the edge of a revolution. With Harry James Potter alive and well, celebrations would occur in the whole country; politicians would probably visit the castle; others would want to shake his hand. He was a National Icon after all, probably unaware of his inheritance and the baggage that came with it._

_He hurried his footsteps_ _and soon arrived in the Slytherin Common Room. The newly arrived first years were already settling comfortably_ _after an introduction speech given by a Prefect_ _,_ _and Snape glanced around. According to Dumbledore, Yakov Romanov looked a lot like James Potter, but with much longer hair. Yet, a student matching that description was nowhere to be found and Snape would never forget that impertinent and arrogant face. A Prefect arrived and asked:_

" _May I help you, professor?"_

_The Potion Master sighed in resignation and asked:_

" _Do you know where I can find Mr. Romanov? He's a first year."_

" _Yakov Romanov?" a girl's voice came from behind. Snape turned around and recognized a member of the Greengrass family. She looked slightly irritated. "He was around here a minute ago."_

" _You're looking for me sir?"_

_This time Snape nearly jumped in surprise. He was usually aware of the people around him, but he hadn't heard the boy sneak up_ _behind_ _his back and that bothered him. But when he turned around, his voice failed him._

_James Potter_ _'s_ _–or rather Yakov Romanov's_ _-_ _face was staring at him with detachment and annoyance. The thick black hair he was expecting was still thick and black, but tied back in a short ponytail revealing an earring –a pearl? No, a round-shaped carbonado –on his left ear and when he met his eyes…his heart skipped a beat. These were Lily's eyes fixed on him._

" _Sir? You're all right?" the boy asked, frowning now. Snape inhaled sharply._

" _Follow me_ _,_ _"_ _h_ _e ordered and turned around. The boy –Yakov Romanov –Harry Potter –obeyed wordlessly._

_They walked out of the dungeons in silence. The only sound_ _s to be_ _heard were their footsteps echoing in the hall. Snape never let him out of his sight. Romanov didn't look anxious or nervous, but annoyed and sleepy_ _,_ _and comfortable showing it. Snape huffed. Self-confidence, arrogance, insensibility. He obviously hadn't inherited any of Lily's personality traits._

" _So where are you leading me?" the boy suddenly asked._

" _We are going to the headmaster's office," Snape announced dryly. "Professor Dumbledore wants to see you."_

" _Did he tell you what for?" Romanov asked again. "Because I didn't do it."_

_Snape knew he shouldn't look too closely at those words, but he did anyway._

" _What do you think you didn't do?"_

" _The hell I know!" the boy glared. "You won't tell me why the mighty Dumbledore wants an interview with ol' little me." He paused. "I swear if he's expecting an apology for me flipping the finger, he can shove it where I think." Another pause. Romanov added grudgingly. "Sorry sir, I tend to think out loud when I'm tired. It's been a long day."_

_Flipping the finger? Snape repeated mentally in disbelief. When had that occurred? And what had Dumbledore done to trigger such a reaction from him?_

_He kept quiet in the hopes the boy would reveal something else, but after his little outburst, Romanov didn't open his mouth again. His eyes_ _,_ _though, were flaring in anger and given the way he had just talked, Snape suspected him to be the kind of person who didn't hesitate to speak his mind. And Snape realized that Dumbledore might have greatly underestimated the boy he was expecting to meet._

_A small part of him couldn't wait to see where this would lead._

_They reached the office in complete silence, climbed the stairs to the headmaster's office and entered at the man's permission. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk when they came in, looking as welcoming as ever. Snape stepped on the side and, when Dumbledore didn't send him away, crossed his arms and waited for the clash._

" _You asked for me, headmaster?" Romanov asked, his voice calmer than earlier. Dumbledore smiled his grandfatherly smile, which seemed to have no effect at all on the eleven year old._

" _I did. Would you like to sit down?"_

_Romanov didn't move._

" _Is offending a table of Pureblood_ _s_ _or puking on a Malfoy a capital offense?"_

_The headmaster blinked in surprise. So did Snape._

" _No…" he replied slowly, amusement twinkling in his eyes._

" _Then I didn't do whatever I'm held responsible for," Romanov declared in a no-nonsense tone. "Or if I did something wrong, it was unintentional."_

" _You've done nothing wrong_ _,_ _my boy," Dumbledore said in a reassuring voice. The words didn't have the intended reaction: instead of soothing, Romanov tensed ever further._

" _Don't_ _,_ _"_ _h_ _e hissed, narrowing his eyes at the old man. "You are not family, but a member of the educational system. Therefore, do not call me 'my boy'. I am not your son and I do not belong to you."_

_That stunned Dumbledore into silence. Snape hesitated between cheering or scowling. The boy had an attitude, but unlike James Potter, his impertinence seemed to rely on a…sort of desire to set boundaries. Students and adults, no matter if they were muggles or wizards, friends or foe, always stood in respect towards Dumbledore at the first meeting, if only for his past accomplishments. First years students in particular, easily fell for his slightly odd but inoffensive appearance. But for some reasons, Romanov had immediately adopted mistrust and belligerence._

Really _, Snape wondered,_  what had Dumbledore done?

" _I apologize," Dumbledore eventually said. Romanov still didn't move a muscle. "And I apologize for my behavior during the Sorting Ceremony. It was most inappropriate from me."_

" _You bet," the boy muttered under his breath. "Do you do that with every student or am I the special case?"_

_Dumbledore sighed heavily, suddenly looking very old._

" _You reminded me of the child of_ _some_ _friends of mine. They died a long time ago and I have no knowledge_ _of what has become of their son._ _He would be your age nowadays."_

_Romanov narrowed his eyes in displease._ Did the boy have any idea who the headmaster was talking about? _Snape wondered again._

" _My condolences for your friends, but couldn't you have just asked instead of trying to mind-rape me?"_ _T_ _he potion master stared at the older man in shock. "That was tacky and stupid and very beneath a man with your reputation." Now Snape stared at the child in amazement; was he_ only _eleven year_ _s_ _old, to speak in such a way? He talked like a young adult, not a child. And had he just admitted_ _to_ _having felt Dumbledore's intrusion? "Never, ever do that again, or I will go straight to the…authorities." He added firmly, also biting back an odd repressed smirk. "Now was there something else or can I return to my dormitory?"_

_Another thing became obvious at the very moment: Dumbledore had no control over the situation. The boy's trust had never been close to be won over tonight, and if Dumbledore attempted to coax him too soon, it would never occur again. There was a chance that if he brought up the Harry Potter case, Romanov might_ _not_ _only not believe him, but get even more defensive and reject him entirely. And if he did know about the Harry Potter case, he might suspect the old man to have a hidden agenda. Even Snape, who prided himself in being quite perceptive, had no idea how Romanov would react. The best outcome would_ _be that_ _he_ _would_ _agree to cooperate. The worst, and Snape suspected the boy to be capable of it, would_ _be that_ _he_ _would_ _leave the school at once. And that would not suit Dumbledore at all._

" _That will be all. Thank you, Mister Romanov_ _,_ _"_ _t_ _he headmaster said, even though Snape could see the wheels turning in his head. The old man would retreat for now, but he would definitively come back at the right time._

If Romanov hadn't snapped at Dumbledore for the Legilimency use on him, Snape would have definitively torn him a new one. What was he thinking, invading a young student's mind like that? Still, he was intrigued by the fact the boy had caught the headmaster. Dumbledore was one of the most powerful Legilimens he had ever know, aside perhaps from Voldemort. That could only mean that either the boy had natural high mental barriers or he had been trained to keep barriers up. Or perhaps even both. Now that was an interesting thing to keep in mind.

"I think another visit to Sirius Black is necessary. He must have known from the start what Harry would become," Dumbledore said, catching Snape's attention again. He raised determined and wary eyes and met the potion master's. "I fear he wanted to groom a new dark wizard."

Before Snape could reply the idea was perhaps a bit far-fetched, and that Romanov's distrust was entirely due to  _his_  bad move, a portrait announced the presence of two Slytherin students outside his office, wishing to speak to him urgently. Dumbledore agreed to let them in, probably figuring Snape could take over the matter if needed.

But when the door barged open and an odd pair, Daphne Greengrass and Aengus Perlancott, ran in, faces red from running and out of breath. Dumbledore straightened, feeling this matter would need to be taken carefully.

"It's all their fault!" Greengrass started, panting heavily. "They agreed to do it. I was not-"

"Shut up 'green grass from the hills'!" Perlancott snapped back. "It's no-one's fault. Romanov's just too crazy-"

At the name, both men tensed. Dumbledore raised a hand to require silence and spoke softly:

"Please calm down, and tell me what happened."

Perlancott inhaled sharply and blurted:

"We lost Romanov, sir."

And before Dumbledore could ask him to explain further, Greengrass added darkly:

"He disappeared in the Forbidden Forest."

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy :)

**Chapter 6**

 

_Perlancott inhaled sharply and blurted:_

_"We lost Romanov, sir."_

_And before Dumbledore could ask him to explain further, Greengrass added darkly:_

_"He disappeared in the Forbidden Forest."_

**1 hour earlier**

The three Slytherins –a girl and two boys, but he couldn't quite tell who from where he was –continued their way without gaining anyone's attention. Yasha kept his distance like Natalia had taught him, his feet noiseless on the floor, the others oblivious to his presence. They went straight to a part of the castle he was pretty sure they weren't supposed to, a changing block right outside the Quidditch field.

"Are you sure it's all right?" the girl asked again nervously.

"It's fine, Greengrass." One of the boys told her - Daphne Greengrass, the girl who had thought him creepy at the Great Feast. "As long as we stay within the limits, the teachers won't care," a boy – he recognized Aengus Perlancott –replied with ease. Perlancott pulled out his wand and unlocked a door. The third student –Theodore Nott, he remembered- went in and walked out of what was apparently a closet, carrying three old-looking brooms. Greengrass checked hers attentively.

"I can't believe we have to wait until the first class to fly for real," Nott said with a snort. "I miss my Nimbus 2000 already."

They were going to ride on brooms? To…fly? The prospect of playing the violin was suddenly less appealing.

Yasha stepped out of the corner and cleared his throat. The three Slytherins turned around and froze.

"Perlancott, Nott and," he paused, and smirked: "Greengrass  _from the hills_ ," Yasha greeted them lightly. The girl looked scandalized by the pun, Nott puzzled and Perlancott amused. Yasha turned towards the latter and waited.

And after his regrettable words during the first feast and with some help from Malfoy –because apparently, puking on someone even accidentally made them your archenemy –his housemates tended to avoid him. A majority of them were Purebloods, like Greengrass and Nott, and had felt insulted about his disdain for bloodlines. The other half-blood minority fell in step with the formers. No-one had attempted to bully him yet, but he was sure they would wait until alliances were secured and alpha leaders determined. Most of the elder students were more mature and flexible about muggle backgrounds, as long as said student was a half-blood, but they didn't care about first years' squabbles.

In the end, Yasha figured he might just wait for them to make the first move. Then, he'd have every excuse to fight back.

Aengus Perlancott was a Pureblood and so far, the only exception to their open hostility. But Yasha couldn't determine whether Perlancott was putting up a façade to lure him into a false sense of security or was genuine. He wasn't a charismatic character and wasn't quite handsome either. His raven black hair was cut too shot, his dark brown eyes were too dull and he had too large a nose to be attractive. But he came from a respected Pureblood family and had the others' esteem on those facts alone. Yasha figured if Perlancott didn't secure an individual social recognition with his classmates now, the boy would fall in the background and be forced to give up a front seat to another student more charismatic or meaner and end up a follower. He must be slightly ambitious then, Yasha supposed, to attempt to defy the rules so early in the year.

"What are you doing here!" Nott growled accusingly, but his body language betrayed the guilt of a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. So using brooms wasn't quite allowed, contrary to what Perlancott had said.

"Walking around. Saw you guys. Got curious." Yasha replied with a shrug, pause, and added with a sadistic grin: "Why, are you up to no good?"

"He's going to tell on us!" Greengrass hissed and glared at their 'leader'. "This is all your fault!"

Perlancott didn't say a thing and stared harshly at Yasha. He was obviously trying to ponder over his options: if Yasha told anyone they had access to brooms, a teacher would look into it if only to follow procedure. If a teacher asked, Greengrass or Nott would spill everything and lay the blame on him. His pseudo attempt to gain popularity was already ruined.

"What do you want?" Perlancott asked eventually.

"Teach me," Yasha said in response.

The three Slytherins stared at him. Yasha shrugged.

"You're going on a flying trip, correct? Give me one of those, teach me how to ride, and I'll shut up."

"That's blackmail," Greengrass accused, narrowing her eyes.

"I'll be as guilty as you guys," he pointed out.

"We're doing nothing wrong!" Nott protested, reacting uneasily at the world 'guilty'. Yasha's smirk grew wider in a patronizing kind of way.

"Suuuuuure you're not."

"Oh whatever," Perlancott cut impatiently. "Bring it on Romanov."

He handed him his own broom before taking another one and carefully closed the door behind. The quartet walked out of the building and into the Quidditch field. Yasha observed the wooden assemblage, quite alike a stadium and the three hoops looming quite up high. He had read about Quidditch before, had seen a match with Master Pietor in Italy when Natalia was off on a job. The sport hadn't interested him in practice, but he wouldn't mind staying on the bench and cheer for a team again.

"So you've never been on a broom before?" Perlancott asked with curiosity.

"I've just asked you to teach me how to ride, haven't I?"

True to his word, the dark-haired boy patiently explained him the basics and took off to show the example. Yasha climbed on the broom and after observing Greengrass and Nott, followed smoothly. As he slowly rose in the sky, a smile grew on his face.

"I have a feeling this will be better than paragliding," he said gleefully.

"What's paragliding?" Greengrass asked as she flew and immobilized her broom alongside them. Yasha ignored her and tested the handiness of his broom. Flying, it turned out, was pretty easy and came naturally to him. Within moments, he had already tried a few small loops before settling onto straight path and accelerating. The wind hit his face and he yelped in delight. This was totally better than paragliding.

"Hey slow down!" Perlancott called from somewhere behind. Yasha ignored him; the speed was getting into his system. According to the rules, he wasn't supposed to leave the Quidditch pitch –or even be on a broom before his first flight class –but Yasha didn't care. The adrenaline was coursing in his veins, the landscape was filing past at incredible speed, the beauty of the castle from above…

The branch of a tree slammed into his waist, momentarily unbalancing him. He didn't hear Perlancott yell his name as another branch hit the edge of his broom and sent him flying uncontrollably over the Forbidden Forest. The brisk change of direction made Yasha lose his concentration. When he recovered a few seconds later, he was already far from Hogwarts' grounds and his broom showed no intention of slowing down. If Yasha didn't know better, he'd say the broom was in for the race of its life.

Wait, maybe it was.

Another few seconds later, he did what seemed to be the most sensible course of action. He took off his glasses and carefully slid them in his inside pocket along with his violin. Then, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let himself slip from the broom. The moment his body entirely left his ride, he curled into a ball, hands around his neck for protection and forced his magic out to create a shield around him. With some luck, he'd focus long enough to avoid too many bruises.

The decent was harsher than he anticipated. Some branches cracked under his weight. Others did not and hit him hard in spite of the protective shield. For what seemed hours, he kept going down, scaring birds and squirrels and other creatures –he didn't keep tabs- his body bumping and hitting obstacles like a pinball's ball. An hour seemed to pass before he finally caught half a second breath of hitting nothing and landed heavily on the ground.

Or was it the ground? Because ground didn't make noise did it? Whatever he had fallen on was hard and  _not_  flat and  _breathing_. Perhaps he should move and…

A sudden flop of cold water brought him harshly back to his senses. Yasha gasped and hurriedly pulled out his glasses. When he opened his eyes, he was facing huge beings mounted on horses. Or wait, the upper body as human, but the bottom was a horse. His forced his thoughts in order and realized he was facing a centaur. Wait, three centaurs. Three huge centaurs, looking extremely pissed he might add. Around him, leftovers of what could have only been a party were spread around –there were things hanging from the trees, a sort of altar in stone and fruits on display for God's sake!

One of the centaurs was holding a sort of jar, probably the one that had been containing the water. The biggest one, a black skinned male with a bow hanging across his shoulder, crossed his arms and stared down at him.

Yasha gulped heavily.

What has he done this time?

**Somewhere in Paris**

When Clint had been ordered to terminate the Black Widow, he had taken the assignment without a second thought. Her 'accomplishments' hadn't worried SHILD so far, but her last mission had endangered the lives of many undercover agents. Although she wasn't considered a priority threat, her ties to the Red Room could become problematic in the future. The old organization had started stirring trouble, and SHILED feared that their former star agent would return to them. In shorts, they wanted the threat taken cared of before it became a one.

He had not expected to find her accompanied, by a  _child_  nonetheless.

She had hid his existence well, Clint had to admit it. He probably wouldn't have known if he hadn't seen them together at King's Cross. At the time, he had nearly freaked out; who knew what would come out of a hidden solider-to-be? Because the only motivation for a former Red Room spy to keep a child would to be raise another spy, wouldn't it? After one short argument with his handler and the determination he  _would_  get to know where she had shipped out the kid, Clint had made his move.

And damn, was he glad he had that little conversation before shooting her. Their meeting had only halfway reassured him, since the Widow had appeared genuinely surprised by the news of the Red Room's reemergence and worried for the boy's –or rather, her son's –safety. In retrospect, it explained her behavior. She had always chosen a place close to public transportation and in big apartment buildings. At first, he had pegged it for a 'hiding-in-plain-sight' strategy, but now…

Clint sighed and rubbed his face tiredly.

So there he was, watching his former target being interrogated by Coulson in one of their bases in Paris. His handler had actually  _frowned in displeasure_  –but he hadn't lost his cool because he was Agent F-ing Coulson.

Although Romanov was being reluctantly cooperative and not quite trusting (but being a spy, who would?), she easily gave out names and locations, and enough information to help them understand how the Red Room used to work. A few leads she gave would confirm some suspicions –Clint had read their file as well –although a few others appeared to be dead ends. But she did catch them all off guard by admitting to be responsible for their demise nearly twenty years ago.

"You blew up the entire Red Room facilities?" Coulson repeated, his usually blank mask nearly falling in the favor of disbelief for the second time in one day. "How?"

"Dynamite," Romanov replied with a nonchalant shrug. Clint smirked. No wonder why she sought for protection from them.

Coulson narrowed his eyes and leant forwards.

"You just said you took down an entire underground organization on your own, and survived it? We are talking about three bases located at three different places in Russia blown up the very same night."

Natalia merely raised an eyebrow.

"Does it matter how I did it? It's done now," she replied sweetly.

The door at Clint's side opened quietly, nearly making him jump. A grim-looking agent entered and nodded at him in sign of greeting. He returned it. The agent – Maria Hill, cold and biting but goddamn efficient and Clint wouldn't be surprised if Fury named her deputy director soon – walked towards him and stared at the interrogation in turn.

"She said anything about the kid?" she asked. Clint made a negative 'uh-hum'. As cooperative as cooperative went, the Widow hadn't breathed a word that would betray anything about her son, which in his opinion wasn't a surprise. "Fury assigned me the case," Hill muttered, dejected, and Clint winced in sympathy. "Anything extra you can tell me about?"

"I put everything in the report." He replied curtly. "I only found out about the kid at King's Cross when she dropped him herself, so there's not much more to say."

Hill hummed distractingly.

"That was 30th, right?"

"No, it was September the 1st." he corrected and added, annoyed. "I think someone's been fucking with that report on purpose, you're not the first one to ask."

Hill suddenly tensed and stared at him sharply.

"She dropped him off at King's Cross, around ten thirty  _September the first_?"

"That's what I said." Clint confirmed, slightly annoyed again. "Why, you might know s-"

"And you couldn't find him afterwards?" she interrupted, ignoring his glare. "Not him or the redhead family?"

Clint glared at her but shook his head nonetheless. He felt intrigued though when she stormed out of the room with a determined look on her face.

**Forbidden Forest**

"Can I ask for something?"

Bane –that was the leading centaur's name –glared down at him.

"You are in no position to make demands, human."

Apparently, Yasha had indeed crashed among a little party to celebrate something planet Neptune had announced. And if that wasn't enough, he had landed on one of their best 'musician', if such existed for centaurs. The rest of the party had fled upon his arrival, and only the three best warriors had remained behind to take care of the 'nuisance'. Thankfully, they seemed to have a sort of limit where it concerned younger humans and, since no heavy injuries or death had been declared, they had decided to let him go. Except that Yasha had not the faintest idea where he was, and the centaurs refused to give him an indication in what direction he should start. And ultimate embarrassment, he hadn't learned how to find out his way with magic yet.

"Oh come on, give me a break,  _it was an accident_!" Yasha repeated forcefully. "I'm sorry about your friend –and he's fine." He motioned towards the still recovering Previously Unconscious centaur. "I get it, that you don't want to show me the road out of resentment, but can you at least spare one minute to listen?"

Bane huffed and crossed his arms. Yasha seized the opportunity.

"I have no idea where the way out is, and I just want to return to Hogwarts. I'm sure I can help your musician, for the party. I mean, I've got a violin and I have an ear for music, I can decently reproduce a melody if I heard it once, as long as it's not a concerto from Tchaikovsky."

One of the centaurs glanced at his companion, mouthing  _Tchaiko-what?_

"A human playing at a centaur's gathering?" Bane huffed indignantly at the idea. "Inconceivable."

"Wanna try me?" Yasha pushed his luck. "Say if I manage to make you dance to a song of my choice…"

"Are you speaking seriously, human?"

"If I do," Yasha went on, ignoring his interruption. "Will you show me the way out?"

Bane looked annoyed. The previously unconscious centaur glanced at him with curiosity.

"Your offer is useless." Bane declared sharply. "The celebration is ruined this time. The next will occur in twenty moons. Why should we aid a human who has just disturbed one of our most popular rituals?"

"What kind of music would you use to convince us?" Previously Unconscious Centaur asked.

The three others glared at him. Or rather, Bane glared outright, the second one glared reproachfully and the third only pretended to glare –he actually looked curious too.

"I could show you," Yasha offered. Previously Unconscious centaur nodded eagerly.

Yasha reached for his inside pocket and pulled out his shrunk violin. With a snap of the fingers, it returned to its original size. He then searched for a place to stand. He had a very precise idea of what melody he wanted to play and since he was lacking any other instruments, he needed to improvise. He spotted a flat rock pointing out from the ground. The edge was slightly curved upwards in the shape of a curled hand and was large enough to slip two feet inside without being stuck. Yasha supposed that would do. He stood there and stomped lightly on the rock for testing. As he expected, nothing but a dull 'tap' resulted. So he focused on his magic and kept stomping with his left foot, willing the substance of the rock to change and be lighter. After twenty seconds, he grinned in satisfaction. Whenever his foot hit the rock, the sound that resulted resembled the beat of a drum. The slightly curved part added a slight echo to it, which would play out in his favor in the end.

"That is not music." Bane pointed out with a snarl. Yasha ignored him and stood in the right position. He checked the cords of his violin, tested the sound. Once he was satisfied, he put his bow over the strings, closed his eyes and started his tune.

**_The next day, Hogwarts Library_ **

"You can't be serious!" Hermione exclaimed with wide opened eyes. Someone hissed a 'hush' around her and her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Yasha grinned. Their table was far and isolated enough not to be overheard as long as they didn't speak loudly, so she continued on a hushed tone: "So what happened next?"

"At first they didn't move, but when I picked up the rhythm I felt them more enthusiastic. I had no idea what would a centaur look like when dancing, but trust me, it's really weird."

"You're not making that stuff up, are you?" she asked suspiciously. "What would make centaurs dance?"

"Celtic music. It's used for tap dance, that's why I created a platform where whenever I moved my feet, it would echo like a drum. So when I'd mark the rhythm, it would remind them of a hoof hitting the ground." Yasha explained magnanimously. "Their legs would feel inclined to follow, if only unconsciously."

"You  _manipulated_  them into dancing?"

In the end, the centaurs had enjoyed his piece, even though it was clear Bane would die before he'd admit it. The musician, Chestre, had enthusiastically volunteered to walk him back to the castle, where a search party was about to begin.

Yasha told the teachers he just fell in the forest and found his way back thanks to a basic spell. Dumbledore had praised his senses and resourcefulness. Half of the students had been eager to listen to his adventure and the other half didn't give a damn because he was a Slytherin. Yasha had  _politely_  sent the curious ones off and shrugged off the snarky comments of the others. At the same time, he gained a little reputation. Coupled with Greengrass, Perlancott and Nott's side of the story, he was now portrayed like an adrenaline junkie with a death wish. The death wish came from the fact he had been flying too close to the Whomping Willow. But how was he supposed to know that tree was alive and particularly violent?

Hermione had cornered him the day following his return and yelled at him for being such an idiot and how lucky he was to have come out of the Forbidden Forest unscratched –or at least relatively unharmed. After that outburst, she had turned very quiet and very red and had stormed out of the corridor before he could think of opening his mouth.

Having someone he barely knew worrying for him had done something to Yasha. He knew Hermione had a hard time integrating with her peers because she tended to be a know-it-all, and so far he was the only thing close to a friend for her. So, partly on impulse, partly out of pity and partly from the tiny desire to make an ally, he had decided to tell her the full story. It would be a test, he had rationalized. If she was willing to keep his secrets, then maybe he would consent to accepting her as a friend.

Right now, Hermione looked either scandalized or impressed by his prowess. Perhaps both.

"Like they would have voluntarily danced on to something I played," Yasha pointed out, then admitted: "And they didn't really dance either, just marked the rhythm and swung. Bane was utterly furious but most of the others weren't sore losers. Even Chestre asked if I could come back and teach him how to play a violin." Pause. Yasha frowned. "I guess I'll have to buy a violin somewhere during Christmas time."

Hermione sighed and shook her head.

"I can't believe you're telling the truth," she said. "That's way too odd."

Yasha smirked, not at all offended. He probably wouldn't have believed himself either.

"Do what you want," he said, then gathered his things. "I'm off to Potions. See you later?"

Hermione smiled brightly, and Yasha thought he definitively had gained an ally. At least, for the moment. The trust would need to be earned in due time.

He was whistling down the corridor, strangely happy with the turn of events, when an unfamiliar voice called out:

"Hey, you are Yakov Romanov?"

Yasha turned around and spotted a teenager dressed in a Hufflepuff's outfit. Tall but thin, nearly too thin, fair hair, bright steel-blue eyes. Older, too, perhaps third or fourth year. He moved awkwardly, as if those long legs of his were sticks he didn't quite master. The hands were deep in his pockets and his eyes unconcerned. He didn't look like one of those short-term fangirls he had earned yesterday.

"And you are?"

The teen shrugged and went on as if Yasha hadn't asked a thing:

"Your mother has the nickname of a spider, right?"

Yasha tensed. Black Widow was Natalia's work name, he knew that much. But how did that guy know?

"What do you want?"

The Hufflepuff pulled out a folded letter from his pocket and handed it to him.

"If you wanna reply, just give it to me. I'll send it with my owl. Apparently, it's safer that way."

Yasha cautiously took the letter and glanced at the handwriting. None he recognized.

"What is this?" he asked, fishing for more information. The teenager shrugged.

"No idea. My aunt sent it to me and asked me not to read. I'm just the delivery boy."

"What does your aunt have anything to do with my mother?"

The teenager shrugged again.

"Like I said, no idea. She didn't explain and I didn't read it." He turned around and gave him a little wave. "I'll be waiting for your answer."

Yasha's eyes darted to the letter again. Someone was in close contact with Natalia and was probably planning to use him against her. He clenched his jaw and pondered over the situation. Either he could read the letter, pretend it was a mistake after all, or read the letter and decide from here. He realized the student was almost at the end of the corridor and still didn't know his name.

"Hey, who do I ask for when I go to Hufflepuff?"

The teen glanced over his shoulder.

"Jack Hill."

**_Azkaban_ **

The heavy doors keeping the prison closed barely opened. The guard in charge welcomed Dumbledore with a light nod. The headmaster recognized Sturgis Podmore, a former member of the Order.

"The prisoner is waiting for you." he said, not acknowledging Dumbledore by any other means. The headmaster thanked him and followed him wordlessly. "There are people inside in case," he warned him. "I'm not sure why you want to talk to him; he hadn't said a word for a while. And even before that, he wasn't willing to talk."

"Perhaps he will give up something this time." Dumbledore said lightly. The wizard shrugged and opened the door. The headmaster put up a more solemn face and entered. The room was small, entirely enclosed with two exits: the one he just came through, and another one across the room, the prisoners' side. A table and two chairs were the only furniture, one being occupied by none other than Harry's godfather. Although his appearance was shabby and his body language slightly hysterical, his eyes remained focused and clear.

"Good afternoon, Sirius," the headmaster greeted politely.

Sirius barely acknowledged him, but his hands trembled noticeably. A side effect of being surrounded by Dementors for so long, he supposed. It was a miracle he could even stand straight. Well, halfway straight. He was bent over the table, hands held by iron cuffs, two wizards standing by his sides in case. Dumbledore took a seat across the man and stared at him for a long time in silence.

"Harry Potter made his first year at Hogwarts." He said calmly. Sirius didn't answer, didn't move, but the headmaster thought he caught something in the prisoner's eye. The other wizards in the room tensed in shock. He ignored them. "Your plan has failed. Whoever you put in charge of hiding him did a poor job of getting rid of him."

Sirius still didn't move. Dumbledore continued in hopes of a reaction:

"He was, to our great surprise, sorted into Slytherin. He has already crossed through the Forbidden Forest and come out unharmed. I can already say this boy has a promising future ahead of him, and you and your schemes are tying it down. You and I both know Voldemort hasn't vanished, and he is in danger if he remains with his current guardian. If you truly are on the side of the light, Sirius, like you always claimed to be, then now you must tell me. Who did you give him to?"

The prisoner's shoulders shook slightly in response but he kept quiet. The headmaster leaned forwards and changed tactics:

"He wasn't actually invited under his true name. Does 'Romanov' ring a bell?"

This time, Sirius barked a loud, hysterical laugh. It dawned on the headmaster that the prisoner had probably been biting back his amusement from the start. The two wizards in charge of him reacted immediately: a harsh hand slammed the man's head on the table and held it there. Sirius didn't stop laughing though.

"It-it's  _hilarious_!" he gasped in between hysterics. Dumbledore started to think he had completely lost it after all. The guards pulled him back, holding his shoulders firmly. Their eyes met and Sirius gave him a crooked grin. "You a-ain't gettin' anything,  _anything_  from me. Y-you haven't f-found that  _rat_  y-yet."

Dumbledore observed him carefully, and decided the non-answer would count as a confirmation of his doubts.

"You are not surprised by his selected house? Of all people, I thought you would be the first one to question that choice for James and Lily's son."

"D-did I s-say Y-Yakov Romanov was Harry P-Potter?" the prisoner barked, his whole body shaking.

The headmaster nodded to the wizards, tiredly thinking this visit was a waste of time after all. The guards dragged Sirius to the door. The prisoner kept laughing hysterically all along, leaving behind a very perplexed Dumbledore. Had he been wrong after all? Was Yakov Romanov truly not Harry Potter? But still, the prophecy, Ollivander's letter, the striking resemblance with James…Dumbledore wasn't convinced yet.

"Is it true, Professor?" Podmore asked quietly. "That Harry Potter is still alive?"

Dumbledore's lips thinned into a straight line.

"This meeting will have to be kept a secret for now," he replied instead. "I only have suppositions for now, and would not want to get ahead of myself. Only time will tell if I was right."

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little jump back in time in this one...hope you enjoy :)

**Chapter 7**

**Interlude/Flashback**

**Sirius Black POV**

_16 years ago, a muggle alley in London_

The night was well advanced and Sirius slightly drunk, but not drunk enough to lose his way through the dark streets of London. He had decided to try a muggle pub for once and definitively didn't regret it. Muggles had awesome taste in alcohol and he knew he'd need a painkiller the next morning.

A loud 'thud' and many muffled sounds came to his ears. Sirius frowned; he knew what came with those sounds, what might follow if he headed towards them. Those were the sounds of people fighting. He briefly thought of calling Aurors or the muggle cops, or even scream for reinforcements, but he wanted to become an Auror himself and his inner pride won over.

What he saw made his blood freeze, and then boil. Three men –large, muscled men – were holding down a young woman and kicking her viciously, hissing words in a language he didn't recognize. But he clearly identified the cries of pain of their victim as she tentatively tried to protect herself from their blows.

Without a second thought, Sirius drew his wand and checked the area. He sneaked behind a corner and threw three stunners at the men. They fell without even realizing what was happening to them. Sirius slowly emerged from the shadows, his hand tight around his wand just in case. He made his way as silently as he could towards the young woman, still curled into a ball.

"Hey, it's okay, you're safe now," he said softly.

Although he was still a few feet away, Sirius saw her flinch, but slowly unfold. Her body was shaking slightly and it turned Sirius' guts over when he realized she might be younger than he suspected. He had first pegged early twenties, but now…she couldn't be older than eighteen, like him.

She was also the most beautiful creature he had laid his eyes upon.

Blond wavy hair fell all over her face and shoulders like a cascade. Her bright green eyes were staring straight at him, wide with fear and her mouth parted open. Sirius raised his hands in reassurance.

"It's all right, I won't hurt you."

The young woman –more like a teenager really- kept breathing too fast, her whole body tense and ready to bolt away. At the sight of the fear in her eyes, Sirius was tempted to wake up those assholes and kick where he knew it would hurt the most.

"Are you okay?" he asked again tentatively. When he stepped closer, she scrambled backtracked awkwardly and retreated clumsily against the closest wall.

"Who –who are you?" her voice was shaky, trembling and mistrusting. It was also very faint and weak. Sirius crouched at a respectable distance in attempt to keep her calm.

"My name's Sirius. I'm a friend. What's yours?" She kept eyeing him warily. "I promise, I won't hurt you."

She looked slightly less afraid, but definitively still wary.

"Natalie."

Sirius smiled encouragingly.

"That's a start. Tell me, do you have any friends, family I can call for you?"

Natalie's breathing accelerated again and her eyes suddenly rolled back. She promptly fainted. Sirius cursed and rushed towards her.

She was unconscious all right, limp in his arms and unresponsive to his attempts to wake her up. He resisted the urge to slap her awake and ran a few diagnosis spells he had learned from Lily. Aside from a few bruised ribs, she didn't look too out of it. So he held her tightly and Apparated not too far from his place, a small apartment the Potters had bought him and which he'd sworn he'd reimburse them for once he got a decent job, and carried her inside.

He hurriedly headed to the guest room and dropped her on the bed. Now that they stood in a better lit place, he could see the bruises blooming over her beautiful face and the urge to return and finish those thugs came back with a vengeance. He headed to the kitchen instead and checked his cupboards for some pain relief. Potion for good digestion, potion for fever, potion for skin care, potion for greasy hair –seriously, did Lily stop by recently?- potion for…

Sirius cursed, knowing the pain relief wouldn't be in the stock. He called upon his trusted owl Deejown and sent a quick word to James. In the meantime, he filled a glass with water and returned to the room.

Natalie was awake, blinking forcefully and sitting on the bed, her legs in such a position he believed her to be ready to dash out at the first wrong move. He made sure to stay away from her, but not too far away from the door in case she decided to try and run for real.

"How are you, Natalie?" he asked, his voice calmer than he actually felt. She was weak and scared, but she made him nervous for some reason.

"Who are you? Where am I?" she asked, her voice deep and husky and distrustful. Sirius figured that although he had come to her help, she viewed his presence as another potential threat. He didn't blame her.

"It's my place," he replied and suddenly remembered that she wasn't a witch. The obvious had skipped his mind from the beginning. Why hadn't he brought her to a muggle hospital? Damn it, he needed to think his actions through next time, he chided himself. He cleared his throat uneasily and handed her the glass of water. "There. You should…uh…drink."

When she didn't move, he put the glass on the bedside table with slow moves and stepped back tentatively to give her space. She still eyed him distrustfully, but took a sip. He considered it a small victory and decided to push his luck.

"Do you know who they were? Why they were after you?"

Natalie's lips thinned into a line and her eyes were narrowed at him intensely. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, she shrugged.

"I don't know. I was just taking an evening stroll and they caught me. Maybe I was just at the wrong place at the wrong moment."

A quiet 'pop' outside and a man's voice calling 'Sirius' loud made both Sirius and Natalie jump.

"It's a friend of mine," Sirius said quickly. "I'll be right back, just stay there, okay?"

Before she could reply, he darted out and joined James in the corridor.

"Keep it down," he warned upon arrival. "I've got company."

James glared at him.

"You are the one asking for a goddamn potion at this hour. Lily was worried and sent me with it. You look fine to me."

Sirius winced guiltily. James looked exhausted after a full week of training with Moody and deserved the little rest he got.

"Sorry pal, but that was an emergency."

James suddenly cursed and stared at Sirius suspiciously.

"You have that expression Siri, what have you done now?"

The floor creaking made them both turn around. James hurried to the living room door and opened it wide. Natalie stood there, stiff like a deer caught in daylight.

"Who the bloody hell is  _she_?" James blurted. A second glance later, during which he must have noticed the bruises, he asked: "What happened to her?"

The questioning seemed to infuriate Natalie a bit, as she frowned and snapped:

" _She_  can understand you perfectly." James frowned at her and Sirius couldn't help but smile in relief. Natalie sounded like she was going to recover just fine.

"Whatever," the Potter boy muttered. He pulled out the medicine from his pocket and handed it to Sirius. "I trust you've got this?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Return to Lily." Sirius assured. James raised an eyebrow.

"I expect news tomorrow."

"It'll be fine. Just go."

James grunted a 'good night' and apparated away. When Sirius looked at Natalie again, he immediately lost his smile. She was staring agape, jaw hung low, eyes wide open, at the spot James had disappeared from.

**_A month later…_ **

"You know Padfoot, when I asked you if you had this, I actually meant ' _is she a muggle_?'. And the next day when you told me you got everything under control, I didn't understand ' _she's a muggle and I told her everything but she didn't freak out, so we're good'_."

James' glare didn't intimidate Sirius the least. But he did feel sheepish at his actions.

"I still have everything under control," he assured his best friend with a nonchalant shrug. "I just answered a few questions and she let it go." At James's look of disbelief, he admitted: "She is curious about our world, but she won't scream it over the roofs, trust me."

"You've only known her for a month, Siri," James pointed out, frowning. "How much have you told her anyway?"

Sirius opened his mouth to reply but he was interrupted by the sound of female laughers in the background. A glance towards the garden and both saw Natalie and Lily walk back inside, sharing a smile of complicity. The men were ignored as they headed to the kitchen, most likely to refill their empty glasses. At the same moment, someone rang the front door.

"Bet this is Remus," Sirius said with a side grin. Lately, Peter was always late or canceled unexpectedly. James rolled his eyes and stood to greet his guest.

Natalie hadn't been supposed to stay more than a few days with him. But since she seemed in no hurry to leave and Sirius was in no hurry to see her leave -she might be attacked again, his brain reasoned, while another part of his anatomy screamed 'she's hot' –he had let her stay. She had been intending to settle in London anyway and he had welcomed the presence of a roommate. Years of living with the Potters had got him used to company and he sometimes felt lonely in his apartment.

Weeks had gone by and Sirius had come to know more about Natalie as she slowly opened up to him. She was Russian, and an orphan. Her parents had died in a fire when she was six and an uncle had taken her in and raised her. She had been homeschooled her whole life and after her uncle's recent passing, had decided to start anew in another country. She had just turned eighteen and had been staying in London for a week when Sirius had come to her rescue. Although her situation was quite unfortunate, Sirius was secretly glad she had no attachments.

In return, he had brought her to a couple of places, guided her through Diagon Alley, showed her Gringotts, pointed out the entrance in King's Cross and explained how they took the train to go to school. He told her everything about Hogwarts, about the Marauders, about the life he'd led and the one he was planning to live. She was a great listener and he slowly opened up to her in turn, telling her about his childhood, his friends and family. He told her things he only told James about –and a few others he never told anyone. After a while, although he never told her  _that_ , he was starting to think of including her in his future. Natalie never acted like she'd want more than just friendship with him, but Sirius had the feeling that given the right time, and at the right moment, he could attempt…

"Who is the unlucky lady?"

Sirius was rudely pulled out of his reverie and glared at his second best friend, ignoring the red invading his cheeks. Remus chuckled and threw James an amused smile.

"Who said there was a lady?" he asked with a snort. Remus shrugged.

"You look a lot like James did around Lily back in fourth year."

James replied with an indignant stare. The said ladies returned from the kitchen, and seeing the newly arrived, came to greet him. Sirius watched Natalie smile at Remus, talk to him and touch him without fear. He had told her about his  _furry_  problem and was glad she didn't seem bothered by it. Sirius suddenly realized he might have told her too much too soon. As James had pointed out, he'd only known her for a month. His skepticism was probably well-placed, but he couldn't help himself.

"Earth calling Sirius, are you landing anytime soon?"

He blinked and looked up into her emerald green eyes. He gave her a smile and apologized for his distracted attention. Natalie shrugged and followed Lily back outside, both talking about a muggle thing he wouldn't understand, and he chased his worries away. Natalie was just a muggle woman who had a difficult life and was trying to find her ground feet. She wouldn't betray his secrets, he knew it. Sirius realized he had been staring at the door of to the garden a tidbit too long and promptly turned around. James and Remus were grinning at him.

This time, Sirius felt the blush extend up to his ears. He had been the one to tease James the whole time he was attempting to court Lily. Now he guessed the roles were reversed.

_**Two months later...** _

His world was crumbling down. They were back at the Potter's manor, he, James, Lily and Natalie. This time though, Lily and James had their wand out and pointed at Natalie, who was tied to a chair and out thanks to a stunner. Sirius was sitting on the floor, staring at the unconscious form and wondering how he had missed the signs. She was perfect. She was sweet. She was smart. She was funny. She was beautiful.

She was a killer.

Dark red stained her jeans and green top. Some strands of hair had dried blood holding it together. Her hands were tied in her back, but Sirius knew they were tainted too.

"I'm waking her up." James warned. Lily swallowed heavily but her grip on her wand was strong. Sirius was still too bewildered to care. " _Ennervate."_

Had he not known James excelled in these spells, he would have thought it hadn't worked. Natalie's breathing was still slow and regular, unchanged and unwavering. She didn't betray a single thing.

"We know you're awake." James announced severely. "It's useless to fake."

Three seconds ticked before she moved. Slowly, very slowly, she sat straight, her eyes fixed on the couple and their wands. She didn't spare a glance at Sirius, knowing that in his current state, he was no threat to her at all.

Natalie smirked.

Sirius felt punched in the gut. He loved that smirk. He loved the way her eyes wrinkled when she smirked like that. He loved the curve of her mouth when she stretched her lips. He loved the amusement she showed, the laughter in her eyes. The smirk was the same, but there was no more amusement and the laugher in her eyes nowhere to be found.

"Good evening, Mister Potter," she greeted. Her voice sounded the same, the tune was the same. But the tone, the mockery behind wasn't.

"Natalie," James greeted back sternly, his voice tight and eyes narrowed. He was beyond angry. "Or is that your real name?"

"No, it isn't," she replied, and a brief second later, blinked in puzzlement.

"What is it? What is your real name?"

"Natalia Romanov," she blurted and this time frowned. "You gave me a truth potion, didn't you?"

James ignored her question and asked:

"Who were those men you killed back there?"

Her mouth opened on its own volition, but before a sound could be made, Natalia shut it and held it firmly closed. James waited and waited, but to their uttermost surprise, she held on. Drops of sweat were starting to pearl on her forehead as she fought the Veritaserum, but obviously she contained herself quite well.

"Who were those men?" James repeated with more force behind. "Did you know them? Why did you kill them?"

The series of question turned out to be her demise. Too much to hold back, and although she obviously had a great control over herself, she was still human.

"They would have taken me back," she said in a whisper. "And if I resisted, they would have killed me." A glare. "And you all."

Sirius stiffened. The only reason why they weren't in an Auror's office was because he was responsible for this situation. He had brought Natalie/Natalia into their world, had made her a liability to their safety. They saw what she could do with her bare hands, saw how much of a threat she really was. But they were members of the Order (which she knew everything of, thanks to him) and trained to handle dangerous situations. Plus, they had magic on their side (which she had time to study, thanks to him again). Their situation was a lot more precarious than James seemed to realize, but Sirius was grateful for his discretion.

"So you claimed you have protected us?" Lily hissed in turn. She was probably the second most shaken person in the room. Sirius first, for obvious reasons, but she had  _liked_ Natalie.

"In my world, if you don't kill, you're the one who gets killed," the young woman replied. "That's what I was taught since I started training."

"And who trained you?" James went on. Natalia sighed, apparently tired of fighting the serum.

"The Red Room," she answered curtly.

"What is the Red Room?" James insisted. Natalia rolled her eyes.

"A training facility," she said dryly again. Something akin to triumph shone in her eyes, and Sirius understood she had caught the weakness of the Veritaserum. If she gave short answers, she wouldn't feel the pressure to say more and would still be truthful. Apparently, Lily caught her method too.

"You won't learn much from her, James," she said. But James Potter was beyond caring by now. Natalie's action had endangered them all, and Lily had nearly taken a nasty gunshot. Right now, James Potter was pissed and wanted answers. Instead of pursuing a verbal inquisition, he inhaled sharply and whispered:

" _Legilimens."_

Both Lily and Sirius stared at him in shock. Natalia glared angrily and shut her eyes tightly in attempt to fight the intrusion (of course she'd know what this incantation meant, he had told her that too). James' face was hard from concentration as he searched through the woman's mind. But as the minutes ticked, his skin became paler, his eyes wider and when he broke the spell, he looked horrified and sick. Natalia glowered at him.

"I hope you had a nice trip through my mind. You are no better than  _them_."

James took a step back, turned around and ran out of the room. In the background, they heard him puke. Lily looked around, hesitating between going after her boyfriend and staying to keep guard. During that moment, Sirius looked at Natalia, really looked at her. Her face was alert and ready for action, and so was her entire body. An alarm bell rang in his mind. He reached for his wand the same moment she sprung from her chair, free of her bounds.

" _Stupefy!"_  he shouted, and to his great amazement, she dodged the spell and caught Lily in a tight headlock, her right hand flat against her face. Sirius knew what would happen if she finished her move. A sharp tug on her jaw, and Lily would fall dead on the carpet, like one of the men less than an hour before.

"So, do you regret wanting to fuck me now, Black?"

Sirius felt the pang in his chest worsen, but he didn't drop the wand. He had a good aim, and he was fast (but she knew that too).

"So was it all lies?" he asked, his voice trembling against his will. His hand, much to his relief, was steady.

"The best lies come from the truth," she replied evenly, and he thought he heard a hint of sincerity in her tone. But her grasp on Lily was still firm, and Lily was starting to struggle uncomfortably. They remained frozen in this position for a while, until James returned, his feet heavy, his skin white as a sheet.

"When exactly were you born?" he asked, directing his gaze straight at Natalia. Whatever he had seen in her mind had shaken him badly. Had her past been so terrible? Sirius wondered.

"1928, I think."

So the Veritaserum had lost its effect, Sirius thought. But when James only nodded, he gave him a double take.

"James?"

"Release Lily," the young man ordered. "I swear I won't hurt you. I want to help you." Natalia raised a questioning eyebrow. James cleared his throat and added: "I want to help you burn them to the ground. You're good, but you can't do it alone."

"Who is 'they'?" Sirius asked, but James ignored him and went on.

"If we leave now, we will be done by morning. You will need me to infiltrate the base and get all the information."

"James…" Lily started. He shot her a look that cut all questioning. Natalia had released her hold slightly and was staring straight at him in the eye.

"I will help you carry out your plan. Just release her and we'll go."

The woman didn't bulge.

"Swear on your parents' grave you will help me through, and I will cause them no harm."

James' parents grave, another thing Sirius had told her. The young man was starting to hate himself more and more.

"I swear. Release her now before I change my mind."

Natalia seemed to catch what she wanted. She dropped her hold on Lily, who immediately ran into James' arms. They stood in a tight embrace for a few seconds, before he released her and pushed her towards Sirius.

"Keep an eye on her," he said before turning towards Natalia. "Come with me."

The blonde cast Sirius and Lily one last glance and followed the young Potter wordlessly.

James didn't return until late morning, and he was alone.

"Where were you guys? Where is Natali-Natalia?" He asked, worried in spite of himself.

"I don't know. She vanished after the last explosion."

"Explosion?" Sirius repeated as Lily said: James-"

"I don't want to talk about it." he snapped curtly. "You didn't see what was in her head, you don't know what…" his voice trailed off. "Killing her would have been mercy, but if she wants to live…She promised to leave us alone." he added as an afterthought. "She said she owes us a debt. And she will pay it if we ask her to."

"And you let her go?"

James gave him a short glare.

"Be grateful I am not taking this to Dumbledore." He hissed, and Sirius took a step back, recognizing his defeat. "Get over her and forget about her. I don't ever want to hear her name again."

He stormed away, Lily on his trail. Sirius stood behind, watching as his friend's shoulders slumped down like he carried the weight of the world, and decided he would have to mourn her departure on his own.

**_Azkaban, present time_ **

Sirius was still laughing his head off when his jailers threw him back in his cell. So that cold-blooded woman had adopted his godson in the end? Oh, the irony! If only James were here, he would have a fit. His son adopted by an assassin.  _The_  assassin. Didn't matter if she was muggle, he knew his childhood friend would have rather gone against ten Death Eaters than face her ever again. And she had raised his son.

Sirius sobered up suddenly. What  _would_  his best friend think? What would he expect from him, as Harry's godfather? The rat was still on the loose, but knowing Romanova's general behavior, she would have taught Harry –or rather, Yakov- to defend himself. In spite of his earlier reaction, Sirius did wonder about Harry's placement in Hogwarts. Not all Slytherins were bad, but he knew better than anyone they had a nasty tendency to turn dark. And Romanova, regardless of her moral code, was still an assassin. Then again, not all Gryffindors were angels either.

He sighed and rested his head back. He wondered how much Romanova had told him. Did Harry know about his parents? About his own story? About him, the godfather in prison? Did Romanova believe he had killed those muggles, or had she deduced Peter Pettigrew was behind all this? Did she even know where he was?

He sighed again. So what now? He was still stuck in Azkaban and couldn't do much. It wasn't like he could ask for updates about the boy's situation, and…

A sudden thought occurred to him; why had the guards been so surprised by the headmaster's claim concerning Harry? Sure, Dumbledore said his name was Romanov, and he had replied that…

' _Did I say_ **Yakov** _Romanov was Harry Potter?'_

Shit!

Sirius wanted to bang his head against the wall. He could have just yelled it in his face! He was the last one who had seen the baby in the wizard community. He  _would_  know Harry's new name. And if Romanov hadn't encouraged his identity to be revealed…Sirius cursed and started pacing. Romanov must have known, about his situation. She must have kept her part of the deal all those years. If Harry Potter came back after all these years, God only knew how the magical community would react. And if Dumbledore had noticed his slip, he would come back for more.

Sirius stopped pacing and glanced around. No guards were surveying his cell, aside from a Dementor floating down the corridor. He stepped closed to the bars, held them with trembling hands. He needed to find a way out, he thought determinedly. He  _needed_  out, and soon.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_SHIELD, undisclosed location_

It had been a week since she had willingly followed Barton to SHIELD, one week of submitting to psychiatric tests and so on, and Natalia was starting to get impatient. She understood their concerns, but it didn't mean she had to like it. Moreover, the faster she gained their trust, the faster she could dismantle the resurfacing Red Room and be done with it. At least, she thought grimly, they weren't holding her in a cell. Her cooperativeness had allowed her a small -she'd call it- quarters. They included a small bed, a desk with a notebook –in case she remembered extra things, Coulson said –and a small shower. It almost felt like she was staying at the hotel, albeit in a tiny room.

The door opened and an unknown female agent walked in. Tall, brunette, steel blue piercing eyes…No-nonsense like, and probably coming for information.

"Agent Maria Hill," she introduced herself. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

Natalia raised an eyebrow. Everyone knew she had nothing to do in here. But she recognized the name. That woman was the bitch who was supposed to gather information on her boy, according to Agent Coulson.

"Not at all," she replied sharply. If Hill was bothered with her tone, she didn't let it show.

"I won't be long." Hill added. "Your probation period begins tomorrow. An instructor will come at 0700 and go through procedure for standard evaluation. You won't be sent into the field until for at least a month."

Natalia nearly muttered a 'finally!' but held back and nodded instead.

"I also came to warn you; should you ever show a sign of defection, ever make a wrong move or a move on anyone at SHIELD, I assume you are familiar with the words 'consequences' and 'execution'."

The redhead assassin really wanted to roll her eyes and snort. That she was indeed familiar with.

"If you don't follow SHIELD's rules, we will get hold of your son and keep a close eye on his activities." Natalia narrowed her eyes this time. Maria raised an eyebrow in return. "You made it clear he was the only reason you were ready to defect and he was raised by you. Precautions must be taken. Is that understood?"

The redhead gritted her teeth but nodded again. Hill's eyes hardened.

"I came in to your quarters out of courtesy. You are not mute as far as I know."

Natalia knew what Hill wanted, a verbal acknowledgment, but she wouldn't give in. She agreed to defect and cooperate, not be a show monkey. The agent sighed and pulled out a folded paper from her vest pocket.

"I gave you the stick," she said, "this is your 'carrot'. I wrote to Yakov and this is his answer addressed to you. If you want to reply, as you are on probation, you will have to go through me, but I will make sure it goes to him. Yakov knows."

Natalia suddenly felt color leaving her face. She hadn't given Yasha's first name to them. How had they found him? Was there a wizard among SHIELD? It wouldn't surprise her, come to think of it, but she hadn't expected them to search in that…area. It could be a fake letter, and she'd know the moment she'd read the words. But given SHIELD's reputation and the knowledge of her boy's name, she doubted it.

"Do we have an agreement?" Hill asked putting the letter down on the desk. Natalia's fingers itched to snatch the letter away. She gave the other woman a deep glare and replied as calmly as she could:

"Yes ma'am."

To her surprise, Hill didn't look smug or victorious over her giving in. The agent just pushed the letter in her direction.

"If your son returns from Hogwarts this Christmas," she added, and Natalia held back a shiver. If she had doubts about the extension of their knowledge, they were now gone. "He will lodge with one of our agents, as you will still be on probation. He will be free to visit you. Once you are off probation, you will be able to choose a place of your own for him and you to live. It will be under SHIELD security and your son will be listed into the family watch line of your file. Of course," she added, "everything concerning magic will not be spoken of."

So not all SHIELD knew about magic. Maybe that was the reason why Agent Hill had brought this conversation to her quarters and not in an office. As if reading her thoughts, Hill added:

"Your room is under camera surveillance, no mikes. Your case was brought and validated by the International Wizard Security Council. Since you start your training tomorrow, we need to fill in a few documents. I will leave you thirty minutes to read and eventually reply before that." Pause. "It will be read too, but you must have expected that."

Natalia picked up the letter with as much control she could muster. Hill walked out but the clock had begun ticking. The redhead turned her back to the camera and unfolded the paper.

" _Hi mama,_

_Hog. is expectedly bizarre, but I'll tell you more later. Remember the first thing you ever gave me? And the thing Master P. left me to inherit? I'm still using them._

_Hope you're fine._

_Yakov R."_

As she read the short sentences, Natalia felt a wave of relief. She recognized Yasha's clumsy handwriting and the way he hadn't expressed a lot of things meant he was testing the waters. He wasn't sure he could trust whoever he was sending his messages to, but he hadn't used their special code to send an SOS. The relief was slowly replaced by worry and she stared at the paper with a new founded fear.

They knew. They knew he was at Hogwarts. That could only mean someone on board had connections with wizards. Hill, obviously, since she had spoken the name 'Hogwarts' with familiarity. But who else? She wasn't quite sure about Hill's position, so couldn't assume only the high flyers knew. Was she the only one? Or was she taking advice from someone? The thirty minutes ticked away and soon enough, the female agent walked back in the room. Natalia still had the letter in her hand.

"You are in charge of finding my boy." She said. Hill nodded. "How did you do it? You are not one of them."

Hill narrowed her eyes at her.

"How would you know?"

_You don't feel like them_.

"Call it instinct," Natalia replied with a shrug. "If you were a witch, I  _would_  know."

Hill raised an eyebrow but didn't seem alarmed.

"Interesting," she stated impassively, but Natalia caught the intrigued glint in her eyes. She suddenly hoped that agent Hill wouldn't put her in a room with wizards to confirm her tells. Maybe she should have shut up. "Will you write an answer? I can spare you five minutes before we need to move on."

The redhead glared at her, but tore a page of her notebook and started scribbling. She handed the final product to Hill, who took it and folded it in her breast pocket.

"It will leave today." She assured him. "Follow me."

Natalia did reluctantly. The agent posted outside her door stiffened at the sight of her and followed them to a small room with just a table and two chairs. Hill waited until Natalia sat to pull out papers and a pen.

"If you are entering SHIELD as an agent, we need to fill a new file with your basic information." She warned, setting her mess of papers in place. "If you wish to create a new identity for you and your son, now is the chance to do it."

* * *

 

_**Hogwarts, outside the castle** _

Yasha was  _this_  close to screaming in frustration. He was walking by the edge of the forest, the walls of the castle having suddenly become too large and tight and  _smothering_. Since Jack Hill's aunt had sent that letter, he couldn't stand still. Having read and reread it many times, he could picture the words without seeing them at all.

" _Mr Romanov,_

_The Black Widow has joined our underground organization and will soon be admitted among our ranks. The deal she made with us included your protection. Don't attempt to send an owl on your own_ _;_ _the only person that can be reached in the area she is_ _contained_ _in is me. Be aware that since she is currently on probation, her mail will be read before being delivered. Don't hesitate to send her a message through Jack, I will personally ensure it reaches her._

_Best regards,_

_Maria Hill."_

What the hell was he supposed to think? The words  _organization_ ,  _admitted_ ,  _protection_ ,  _probation_  ran around his mind. He had written something anyway and handed it discreetly to Jack in a corridor. If the Hufflepuff had been surprised by the fastness of the reply, he didn't let it show. He took the letter and promised to send it the very same day. That had been two days ago. And now all Yasha could do was wait and wonder if he hadn't made a terrible mistake.

"If you keep pacing like that, you are going to leave a trail in the grass."

So focused in his steps, Yasha hadn't even noticed Perlancott sneaking up on him. His Slytherin classmate looked smug and proud of himself. Yasha glared.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Walking around. Saw you pacing. Got curious. Why, are you up to no good?" Perlancott replied, mimicking their last encounter. Yasha rolled his eyes but stopped walking.

"Again Perlancott, what do you want?"

The boy stopped smirking and looked a bit sheepish.

"Call me Perl. And I came to apologize. I should have come after you when you lost control on that broom," he explained when as Yasha gave him a puzzled stare.

"Oh that? Forget about it," he replied with a little wave. Meeting the Centaurs had been worth it. "What is the real reason why you came by?" This time, it was Perlancott's turn to look surprised. Yasha raised an eyebrow and went on. "Slytherin students avoid me like the plague because I was raised by a muggle. Not you. Why?"

"I…" Perlancott hesitated a moment, then asked: "You good at keeping secrets?"

Yasha nearly huffed –his mom was an assassin and he was secretly an icon to the English wizarding world! –but Perlancott didn't need to know that.

"I found out my real father is a muggle," Perl whispered, glancing around briefly. "I was hoping you could tell me more about the muggle world."

That caught Yasha's attention.

"Don't you come from a Pureblood family? Your mom had an affair with a muggle or what?"

Perlancott's ears flushed red at the bluntness, confirming Yasha's supposition.

"It was an accident," he muttered. "Mom likes studying muggle culture for hobby. She went in to Italy and met some guy there. They're still in contact, like –is that penpats they say?" he shook his head in shame. "My dad can't have kids, and I'm their only heir. I'll become the Head of the family someday, but I still want to know. What's it like, to live in the muggle world?"

"I'm not the one you should ask about this." Yasha said after a moment. "I was raised by muggles but my childhood wasn't…typical. We travelled a lot and I don't have permanent contacts." He paused, and added as an afterthought. "But I could introduce you to Granger. She's one hundred percent muggleborn."

"The Gryffindor girl you hang out with?" Perlancott asked with a frown. "But she's a Gryffindor!"

"And a muggleborn from a decent family. And I'm her…" he hesitated to use the term 'friend', because as Perlancott pointed out, they just 'hung out'. Instead, he said: "And we get along. So there is no reason -"

An owl landed next to Yasha and chipped. The boy's heart gave a start as he saw it was carrying a letter. Two letters, actually. The first one was short and unfamiliar, although he knew right away who was the sender.

" _Same deal. Here's your mother's answer. J."_

He opened the second eagerly.

" _Yasha,_

_I have been in a bit of troubles lately and when you come back, you will have to go through a few adjustments. I did find a more stable employment though. I am still on probation, as they must have told you, but I will soon be a full-time employee. The good side is you will have a permanent place to live and assistance in case of need. I'm glad to hear you are getting used to school. We'll have to communicate this way for a while, but it'll work out in the end, I promise._

_Good to hear Melody and grey eyes are still functional._

_Your mother,_

_Natalia."_

A huge grin blossomed on his face. This wasn't a trap, this was truly his mother. He could communicate with her. Suddenly, his fingers itched for his violin.

"Good news?"

Yasha had completely forgotten about Perlancott. He nearly slapped himself for letting his guard down.

"You could say so," he replied, shoving the letters in his pocket. "I'll get going. Granger should be in the library. Just say you come from me and tell her honestly what you want. I'm sure she'll have questions about the wizarding world too."

And with these words, he waved good bye and ran off to find a secluded place to play.

* * *

 

**SHIELD base, undisclosed** **location** **.**

"And how can you be so certain she isn't deceiving you all?"

In spite of facing the Director of SHIELD through a large sized screen, Hill could feel the intensity of his eyes as if he was standing in the same room. She was alone in the conference room, but standing straight as an arrow like a good officer. She had only met Nick Fury once, but one never forgot the imposing aura and the figure of authority he represented.

"I don't think she realized how much feeling she betrayed when I told her the kid wrote the letter. She was ready to pounce on me." Hill said. "Her son is her priority. As long as we keep him secured, she will be loyal to SHIELD. Make her take the tests and then put her on probation, until at least a week or two before Christmas, and send her on a mission right before her son returns from school. With the right timing, we'll be able to supervise his return."

Fury's eyes were firmly locked on her. Hill held his gaze without blinking.

"And how do you plan to keep that boy in check?"

"I have eyes within and outside the school." She replied as a matter of fact. "They will tell me if the boy acts suspiciously."

Fury's eyebrow raised a notch.

"And where exactly is this school?"

"Scotland, sir," Hill didn't add anything more. To give out further information, she needed to consult the IWSC permission list and check if her boss belonged to the muggles who knew. She hadn't had the time yet. Fury sensed her reluctance and narrowed his eyes at her.

"What are you hiding, agent Hill?"

Hill schooled her features in her best neutral expression.

"Will that be all, sir?"

"Agent Hill," he repeated warningly.

"The school is in Scotland. My nephew attends it," she added as a sort of reassurance. "I will write a full report for tomorrow."

And before the Director of SHIELD could reply –and she'd pay hell for this, she knew it, but she couldn't tell more before asking –she cut the communication and walked out of the room.

* * *

 

**Hogwarts, Forbidden Forest.**

The forest was, in the end, the only place Yasha would consider for practicing out of earshot. He hated with passion that someone would listen to him playing without him knowing. Even Natasha made sure he knew she was there when he played. So after venturing a little into the woods, he pulled out his miniature violin, snapped his fingers and, once back to its original size, tested the cords. The instrument was a beautiful and unique piece, a parting gift from Master Pietor. The Master had been a former violinist himself, but after a damaging incident, he couldn't quite use his hands anymore and had to resign from his profession.

Yasha spared a brief nostalgic thought to for his former master and set the violin to play. He closed his eyes as he started with simple melodies and rhythms to warm up. He hadn't brought any music sheet with him and would have to wait the next holidays to get them back, so in the meantime, he revisited the pieces he already knew. A passage of Vivaldi, some Strauss…he paused after a while, remembering a song he had heard in a music store not so long ago. There was only one soprano voice carrying the same note and same syllable and the background, while mainly strings, was barely present if only for the pauses intermittences. But he figured he could try to play the vocal part for a change. The song was hardly a challenge and would be a change from a hard routine. Or rather, the real challenge would be to keep the note as pure and smooth as he could.

So he played, allowed himself to get lost into the sound of the strings, of his cheek against the wood, the movement of his hands and fingers. His bliss didn't last. A crack, signaling the approach of someone, made him stop immediately. A tall shadow stood nearby, melting with the trees. It barely took a second for Yasha to recognize Hagrid.

"Ye don' need tah stop." The half-giant said. "It t'was beautiful."

His voice was rough but quiet and perhaps in awe. But Yasha sent him a glare, feeling that his privacy had been violated. He returned his violin to a miniature state, placed it back into his pocket and started to head back to the castle.

"Don't ever sneak up on me again!" he threatened with narrowed eyes before leaving. Hagrid looked both crushed and puzzled at his reaction. Maybe Yasha would return later and apologize, but right now he didn't care if he hurt the half-giant's feelings. Interruptions were the one thing he would never, ever tolerate. No matter how much of a snob that made him –Natalia's words, not his –he wouldn't back off that principle.

The Slytherin Common Room was busy when he arrived, so he returned to his bed to retrieve some paper to write an answer to Natalia. Now that he was fairly sure the messages would go through, he wrote a little more:

' _Hey mama._

_I met centaurs by accident and got out thanks to Melody. Think you can order a cheap violin for Christmas? Classes have started. So far, headmaster's a dick, potion and transfiguration teachers are the most fun. Flying on a broom is awesome. I'll have to buy one and show you._

_Hope you're doing fine with your new job._

_Love you._

_Yakov R.'_

He folded the letter and slipped it in his pocket. He'd have to find Jack in the Great Hall, or send him the message via owl. He was vaguely wondering what would be the best means to transport when he felt Perlancott's shadow looming over his back. Again.

"What the fuck do you want, seriously?" Yasha muttered, turning around to glare at the boy. Perlancott merely grinned.

"I'm a pariah now." He said cheerfully. "I've been seen speaking to Hermione, so the Slytherin folks are giving me the cold shoulder."

"And what do I have to do with this?" Pause. "And  _Hermione_? When have you become on first-name basis?"

Perlancott's grin widened.

"She's nice and I like her. I like you too. Shall we be friends?"

"Is that how you got Greengrass and Nott to follow you?" Yasha asked sarcastically. "Or do you adopt a new personality for each person you meet?"

"I'd end up schizophrenic." Perlancott replied with a light shrug. "Truthfully, I'm done. I'm not at home, I don't have to be a nice little heir here or play pretend with other snobs. You," he pointed Yasha with his finger, "are a free spirit and can't care less about what the others think. If a blood feud happens in Slytherin, I want to be on your side."

Yasha felt a headache forming at the boy's enthusiasm.

"A free spirit," he repeated blankly. "Are you fucking serious?"

"Only a total nuthead would dare to play violin to centaurs." Ah well, there went his trust in Hermione. "Oh she didn't spill the beans. I just told her I knew what you did in the woods and she kinda said just enough for me to guess the rest." Correction, he needed to teach Hermione how to lie or recognize manipulative people. "What can I say, I'm just _that_  smart." Fine, maybe he was. "Also it's time to eat dinner. You coming?"

Feeling he'd never be left alone if he started to ignore him, Yasha followed his classmate reluctantly. The common room was chatty as usual, but the boy noted almost immediately that the teachers looked grim. Dumbledore looked lost deep in thoughts and McGonagall's lips were tighter than usual. Moments after Yasha sat down, the headmaster rose and headed in front of the teachers' table.

"Before the banquet begins, I have an announcement to make." The students turned quiet and turned eagerly to hear the news. "A few hours ago, I received a message from the Minister. Early this morning, Sirius Black, until now held in Azkaban, escaped from his cell." Sudden bursts of conversation began, mixing fear and anxiety. Nearly all of the students had heard about the criminal. The headmaster asked for silence before continuing: "The Minister saw fit to send Dementors from Azkaban to guard Hogwarts. They will not interrupt the daily activities but I will ask each and every one of you to be extremely cautious the days to come. Dementors are not known to show mercy, so never given them a reason to attack you."

His eyes seemed to slide towards the Slytherin table and momentarily rest on Yasha –a detail that annoyed him quite a lot.

"Sirius Black was a close partisan of Voldemort," Dumbledore reminded. Most students, and a few teachers, winced at the deliberate use of the name. "Should you know anything, should you  _see_  anything, please report to one of your professors."

Yasha narrowed his eyes; if that last remark was aimed at  _him_ , Dumbledore could hold his breath. A quick glance at his new "friend" informed him that Perl was nervous about the situation. He couldn't see Granger from his spot and finding Jack Hill among the Hufflepuffs was alike to finding Waldo, but most of the students were upset as well, he realized. Perhaps he would have been worried, had he not known his godfather was innocent. When the food arrived, he was one of the few to happily fill his plate and eat.

"And the freak is enjoying this." Greengrass snarled at him, as he kept to his dinner routine.

"We're in Hogwarts." Yasha said with a shrug. "Dementors –or whatever the hell these things are –are coming. Why should I be worried?"

"You are still the weirdest." Greengrass muttered.

"And yet you're still sitting at in the same place." Yasha pointed out nonchalantly. The girl huffed and got taken into a conversation with her neighbor.

No more incidents happened, aside from the much tensed atmosphere that seemed to hang over the students. Even on the way back to the Common Room, the gloomy mood followed them down the dungeons. No-one followed him to the dorm, so Yasha took his time to add a few words at the end of the letter:  _'ps: Sirius Black escaped from prison. Is it_ that _guy? What should I do if I see him?'_  Now satisfied, he changed into his pyjamas and slipped under the covers. He would snatch an owl and send it to Jack the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The music Yasha was playing is 'Concerto for one voice'. I just love that song xD


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was prompted for a 'Yasha plays a dangerous prank on Dumbledore' and 'Yasha meets a Marvel chararcter'. Therefore, the bonus scene at the end of the chapter :)  
> Enjoy !

**Chapter 9**

 

When Natalia returned to her quarters at 7:00 pm, Agent Hill was waiting for her. She looked tired and annoyed and in a hurry. If the rumors were correct, Natalia figured she had a lot on her plate. According to two juniors she had overheard, a scientist had played a little too hard with gamma radiation and was now running away from a certain General Ross. The 'Hulk' was that new monster's nickname.

"Agent Hill," today's babysitter, a bald man with glasses and a laughable right hook, greeted blandly. Hill ignored him and stared at Natalia.

"Stiwell," she replied before glaring at the redhead. "You and I need to talk."

Sitwell walked away –or rather limped away –and left the two alone. Natalia entered her quarters and waited until Hill closed the door to cross her arms.

"What is it about this time?"

Hill wordlessly handed her a letter –Natalia's heart skipped a beat –and waited.

"Read." The agent ordered and crossed her arms in turn. The redhead obeyed. The mentions of the teachers and centaurs nearly made her smile, but she didn't understand what bothered Hill so much. The blatant reference to the magical world? Or…

Her eyes stopped on the post-scriptum. And she was going to strangle her boy for writing down such important information without using their code.

"How do you know one of the most searched murderer in the magical community in Great Britain?" Hill asked, her eyes narrowed and arms crossed. "Whom, I should add, has just escaped a highly secured facility?"

Black was on the run? Natalia frowned. That didn't sound good. She would bet a good deal of money that he had learned one way or another that his godson was at Hogwarts and would be heading that way. He knew Yasha's new name after all. As Hill kept staring, Natalia hesitated on the next course of action. Yasha had obviously given away the fact she knew him. Now, she needed to make sure SHIELD –or at least, one of the agents who knew about magic –didn't consider her a bigger threat.

"I thought he was a small fish for SHIELD," she started nonchalantly, but cautiously.

"I had a request to keep an eye out for him, in case we crossed paths, but he isn't a priority case," Hill admitted. "What does interest me though is how you two met. Were you working with him? For him? Were you working for the same people?"

The redhead snorted.

"You're asking me if I ever had a contract with a Death Eater or Voldemort." Hill didn't bulge and kept her stance steady. Natalia sighed. "I tend to avoid witches and wizards. I wouldn't work for them and I  _would_  know."

"How did you meet Black?" Hill repeated darkly. "Because unless I'm seriously mistaking mistaken, he is a wizard."

Natalia gritted her teeth, annoyed. That woman was like a leech that wouldn't leave her alone until she had her answers. She was just doing her job, but damn was it annoying.

"What I say never leaves this room," the redhead said and nodded towards one of the cameras hidden in the ceiling. Hill's frown deepened.

"Give me one reason."

"Black is innocent. And he wasn't, isn't and will never be a Death Eater."

Hill blinked.

"Oh really?" she asked sarcastically, but appeared to keep a level head and give her the benefit of the doubt. "Do start from the beginning please."

And right there, Natalia decided that a relative truth would be better to keep Hill's trust. After all, she didn't know all the details either.

"He…helped me out. Or rather, he took me in at a time I needed to lay low." She didn't add that he had no idea she was using him. "The only crimes he is known to have committed are the murder of twelve muggles and a wizard, correct?"

"Also feeding information to an English Dark Lord, and kidnapping of a baby," Hill mumbled. "I assume you know that story?"

Natalia nodded and went on:

"So we agree when it is said that him being a Death Eater is solely based on the fact he betrayed the Potters to Voldemort and killed Pettigrew?"

"You are well-informed." Hill remarked, frowning. "Where are you going with this?"

"I met him about seventeen years ago." She paused, wondering whether she should mention James Potter helping her take down the Red Room, and decided against it. A dead man's deed wouldn't be useful to her now. "That's when I learned about the magical world. And I've met the Potters, I saw how Black acted around them. He would have never betrayed them."

"He was arrested on Halloween nearly ten years ago," Hill pointed out. "People change with time. That still doesn't explain why your son thinks why he might interact with him. Were you lovers? Is he Black's son?"

That would be an easy way to cover up, Natalia thought, but that wouldn't help Black in case he got caught. In spite of raising Yasha as her own, she was more or less paying her debt to the Potters. Black claimed he was including his debt in the whole, but it still felt wrong to let the charges lay upon him like that.

"I met with him after the Potters were murdered," she admitted. Hill inhaled sharply and gave her full attention. "He wanted me to keep something for him, until he was done with some business in England. He never came back."

There, she dropped it. If the woman was smart enough, then it was a matter of minutes before Hill put two and two together. Natalia vaguely wondered if Barton truly believed Yasha to be hers and if he didn't, why he hadn't pressed the issue harder. Hill's voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

"According to your file and our data, you cannot have children." The tone was deadly calm and wary. "Your Yakov is the Potters' kid, isn't he?"

"Pettigrew betrayed them, or so I came to conclude with my later researches." Natalia added without confirming. "I know for a fact that he is an animagus, a rat. He could have cut his own finger and ran away in the debris of the buildings. And all the screaming before killing the muggles, it could have laid the blame on Black. Since Black no longer had the baby and probably suspected other spies to be around, he would have kept quiet to protect his godson."

"A rat?" Hill seemed stuck on that point. "He would have been living ten years as a  _rat_?"

"I know men who did worst for less." Natalia remarked dryly. "But please consider this. If SHIELD gets a trail on Black, they need to keep him alive. He probably ran from jail to find his godson anyway."

Hill's lips thinned into a frustrated line and the tone of her voice was no better.

"Do you have  _any_  idea how much this child is worth in the English wizard community?" she hissed, eyes narrowed and entire body tensed. "What will happen if the news of him being alive are spread?"

"It's part of the reason why I kept him, and also why I said none of this leaves this room," Natalia admitted. She had pulled a gambit knowing no mikes were in the room, or Hill would have never spoken of magic so freely, and Natalia would be long dead before she repeated this to someone.

Hill scanned her quietly, likely wondering about her sanity.

"Why take the risk to tell me?"

Natalia didn't hesitate, pushing away the anguish of having made a mistake:

"You know the magical word. You belong to a powerful organization. From what I've heard, you will probably be named Deputy Director soon. Someone with your influence can help set things straight."

Hill glared at her.

"You are putting me in an awkward position," she grumbled angrily. "Black isn't regarded as a high threat and I will have my hands tied if he's caught by English Aurors before SHIELD. I can try to ensure, if one of our teams stumbles upon him, that he's caught. His state of injuries will depend on how much he fights back. As for your…son, I'll forget about this damn conversation. And you better not bring that up anytime soon."

Natalia nodded, figuring this was a good enough. At least Hill didn't sound very interested by divulging information, according to her body language. She even appeared…annoyed?

"Will that be all?" she asked in attempt to break the agent's stance. Hill mumbled something and glanced sideways at her.

"Actually, yes, something came up in your medical report." She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Doctors said you have an accelerated healing process in your genes, which is the main reason why you are in perfect health and your skin is flawless."

Natalia felt the urge to roll her eyes. These weren't old news; she had hardly survived up till now without knowing what they had done to her body.

"And so?" she asked, sarcasm dripping from her tone. Hill's eyes flared.

"Why won't the scar on your hipbone heal?"

The redhead barely blinked and shrugged.

"I have no idea," she said calmly. "A few won't right away, others stay longer. Why, do you think it could be abnormal?"

Hill stared hard at her. Her com blinked to life and she listened to the message. Then she closed her eyes and sighed heavily.

"You're lucky I have more important stuff to deal with right now." She growled. "But we'll talk about that later."

Natalia rolled her eyes but when the agent left, she shoved the urge to rub said scar. That one was old but permanent, and she didn't like to talk about it. A last thought spared to Yasha, and she headed to the bathroom to prepare for the night.

* * *

" _Mischief Managed."_

Yasha paused in the corridor. He had finally managed to shake off Perl –that guy was always on his back –and was slowly making his way back to the dormitories when he heard the voices whispering behind a pillar. Curiosity got the best of him again, especially since he recognized the Weasley twins. Their pranks were legends in ways Yasha couldn't help but admire, and he wondered what they were planning this time. He approached the corner of the wall and glanced in the corner. True enough, two redheads were walking away as naturally as innocent students would.

Yasha tailed them for a moment, curious to see what they had in mind. But he misjudged a step and hit his toe on a rogue stone. A quiet curse escaped his mouth before he could hold it back. The twins' footsteps halted.

"Wait, I heard something."

"You sure?"

Yasha paused in the shadows, his breathing melting with the silence in the room. While he enjoyed watching the twins prank students (Slytherins in particular), he had no desire to be on the receiving end of one. If they found him hiding there, he was in deep trouble. As footsteps turned back in his direction, he looked around for a place to hide and decided to climb over a sort of pillar. There was a short edge on which he could stand if he kept his balance straight. Up there, he might not be free to move, but he would be invisible to them.

The two redheads arrived in his sight. He slowed his breathing and waited.

"There's nothing here Fred," one of them said, glancing around. The other frowned deeply.

"I know I heard something."

Fred shrugged.

"You're paranoid."

"But what if it's Black? Jordan said he was spotted at Hogsmeade."

Yasha was suddenly all ears. So  _was_  his godfather looking for him? He would need to keep an eye open in case he saw a big black dog on the grounds. Down with the twins, the silence had become uneasy.

"Open it again."

Paper creasing.

" _I solemnly swear I am up to no good."_

Yasha peeked from his perch and watched as they bent over a parchment, watching it intensely. Suddenly, one of the twins looked around and pulled out his wand.

"Oh fu*k Fred, watch-"

_Too late_ , Yasha thought and extended both hands, sending the equivalent of a stunner for each twin. The move made him fall forwards and land on the floor less than gracefully, but at least the twins were passed out. The piece of paper flopped down. Yasha picked it up. It was entitled 'The Marauders' Map' and didn't appear particularly special, but knowing the twins' reputation, there had to be more to it. He opened it and froze. This, was a map of Hogwarts. With name tags on it. And said name tags were walking around. He couldn't help but whistle in awe; whoever had created this map had done an excellent work. But when he searched for his own name, he froze. Instead of being written Yakov Romanov next to Fred and George Weasley, the Map recognized him as Harry Potter.

A cold sweat formed on his forehead. The twins had this map in their hands since the beginning. Had they made the connection? Had they deemed the map dysfunctional? If it was the case, had they reported to Dumbledork?

He checked for a room free of names on the map and closed the door behind. There he took his time to study it. The whole castle was drawn on it, with people moving or standing still, like Hermione in the library and Perl making his way around the Great Hall. His fingers brushed the paper and he concentrated. A huge web of charms intertwined and interacting vibrated against his skin. In spite of himself, Yasha grinned as he retrieved his hand.

"You are an incredible masterpiece."

To Yasha's mild surprise, letters started to appear on the parchment.

_Misters_ _Messers Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs_ _would like to thank you for the rightful compliment, Mr Potter._

Yasha's grin faltered.

"Hogwarts recognized me as Yakov Romanov. Why won't you?"

The map didn't reply, and the name 'Harry Potter' remained. The boy sighed in defeat and wondered how he could conceal its contents, until he remembered the twins' conversation.

"Mischief Managed," he tentatively said, waving a hand over the Marauders' Map. The lines, to his relief, vanished slowly and soon the map became nothing more but a blank piece of parchment. So if ' _Mischief Managed_ ' was the endgame, ' _I solemnly swear I am up to no good'_  would be the key to its activation. Yasha decided he'd need to hide the map someplace safe. He could destroy it of course, but he couldn't bring himself to burn such a beautiful craft. Plus, it could turn out useful in the future.

He slipped the map in his inside pocket and daintily returned to his Common Room, grateful he had found a more practical way to avoid Perl. The dungeons were unsurprisingly empty, since most of the students were wandering outside to take advantage of the sun. Not even the presence of Dementors had bothered their habits. He frowned at the last thought. Dementors, nasty creatures. They had prevented him from escaping to the Forest to play the violin and being nearby them put him on edge. Maybe this Map would help him fulfill his wish and find a secluded place to be alone from time to time.

A shiver ran down his spine, and Yasha suddenly realized the air had suddenly become colder. He wondered if the twins had already woken up and were trying to pull a prank on him. But he knew by instinct that he was alone in the corridor, and even Gryffindors didn't wander in this part of the castle, if only to avoid Snape. If something was there, then it wasn't human.

He parted his arms slightly and readied himself for an assault.

"Show yourself!" he shouted, ready to take on whatever was waiting for him.

A veiled creature appeared in the corner, floating like a ghost but much darker and more ragged than the classic kind. A Dementor. Shit.

Yasha shifted his body language into a defensive position, but the Dementor didn't care. So he did what anyone would do when confronted to a creature they couldn't win against. He ran.

But of course, that only set the creature to run after him. The dungeons were empty and Yasha was fast, that thing was faster. Even though he hurried towards Snape's office in desperate hope the teacher would be there –and because that would be the closest thing he would find as a shelter, he could feel the Dementor's presence looming over his shoulder. The more he ran, the more he hated the number of corridors in the dungeons. Had he had more time, he could have probably opened the map and search for a safe path –or with someone inside and-

A second Dementor appeared right in the corner, and he was stuck. The first creature was cutting his escape road and the second the road ahead. He backed against the wall and faced the creatures, knowing he had no other way out.

So he screamed for help as they slowly moved towards him, but no-one answered. In a last attempt, he threw a blast of wind at them, which failed, and called for his shield to surround his body as the ultimate protection. But the cold bypassed his barriers, and dread and other negative feelings started to invade his body. He was dead, he thought. He was going to die in the dungeons of a magical castle, far from his mother and alone.

The last thing he saw before passing out was the vague white shape of a bird. Yasha still had time to wonder what the hell an eagle ghost was doing in the dungeons of Hogwarts before everything turned black.

_The rats jumped out of the dumpster, squeaking as they ran past by him, leaving in their wake some traces, some prints whose_ _color reminded him_ _oddly of a dark red. Suddenly he realized a few of them were actually covered with blood and one was staring at him with those dark, gleaming eyes. All he could see was the goddamn blood and a feeling of dread and panic rising within because those rats came from the exact direction she had gone to. He hurried down the street and into an alley and what he saw…_

_Green eyes. Empty, lifeless green eyes wide opened, and a red bloody mouth, and red blood everywhere around a body, lying in a mess next to a dumpster like a disarticulated doll, and red hair spread all over her face like a scarlet veil. She wasn't moving or breathing and those goddamn rats were running around her body, sniffing and tainting their fur with that goddamn blood, and it was so much, too much he had to cling to the nearest wall. His head was spinning and he couldn't think straight because those green eyes and that body and that hair and that blood, it all belonged to the woman who raised him, his mother, his_ _Natalia_ _and there she lay…_

_His feet led him to her and he knelt by her side, oblivious to his surroundings. His trembling hand tentatively brushed her shoulder as he called her name softly at first, then louder. His voice cracked as he lost his cool and screamed for her to wake up, and shook her too-stilled shoulders and then begged for her not to leave him alone because he had no family without her._

_He was interrupted by the arrival of four people, three men and a woman, who stood nearby with blood on their hands and smirks on their face._

_So the traitor had a child, one said. He looks pitiful, another said. He looks weak, I expected a better legacy from the Black Widow, the woman said. Should we kill him too, the last one asked. No eye_ _witnesses_ _, the first man spoke again. Don't worry, child of a traitor, the woman concluded, I will make this fast._

_She pulled out a knife, a bloodied knife –was it the blood of his mother?- and stepped closer, like a predator, like a lion ready to pounce on its prey. But he did not care. His blood screamed vengeance just as his magic boiled in his veins and ran throughout his body. He felt the anger rise and the energy build and eager to be released and he stood up, his head high and his hands ready. Never to use those powers to harm, he had promised his mother._

_But she was no longer alive to stop him…_

* * *

 

_**BONUS SCENE** _

* * *

 

_San Francisco, 5 years earlier_

San Francisco was a pretty impressive city, but what he liked most was the Golden Gate. Not only because of its history, or the architecture, but the ghosts that haunted it. That bridge had the creepy reputation of being the 'bridge of death' for many people. And given the number of ghosts accumulating, it didn't surprise him. He usually didn't mind them, but their presence, so close to each other, made the crossing on the pedestrian side much colder than necessary.

Today, Natalia had a job to do downtown and Master Pietor had gone to get drunk, so she had encouraged him to wander a bit during the day. So he had decided to return to his favorite place. After she dropped him off at the museum, he had headed to the bridge. It was rather deserted for once, perhaps because of the fog. Good. The ghosts would be less cranky then. They hated that muggles walked through them all the time, but they had only themselves to blame. Yasha made sure to keep his eyes on the road and ignore the ghosts. If one came to realize he was a wizard, or at least realize he could see them, hell would break loose and they'd all want to talk to him.

Someplace in the middle of the bridge, he spotted a man wearing sunglasses, leaning against the fence, staring down at the waters. The few ghosts hanging there couldn't care less.

"You're a jumper?" Yasha asked bluntly with curiosity.

The man hadn't heard him approach and jerked in surprise.

"Non, petit." He replied cautiously. French accent, but not  _French_. Yasha would bet Louisiana, Cajun. "'m just admirin' the sea while I hav' t'time."

The boy stared a little harder.

"Have you been crying?" he asked again. The man stared back in disbelief. Or Yasha thought it was in disbelief. It was actually hard to say, since half of his face was hidden.

"Non. Why do you ask?"

"It's foggy. You're wearing sunglasses. Ergo, you must have a reason. In my experience, only blind and tearful people hid their eyes. I don't think your blind, since you don't have a cane, and while it's mostly a woman habit," Yasha paused, seriously hoping his mom would never hear those words out of his mouth. He concluded: "It would be the most logical reason."

"Nice deduction, petit, but I ain't been crying." He took them off. Yasha's jaw fell open; his eyes were gleaming red.

"Awesome," he whispered, fascinated. "How'd you do that? Is it a natural condition?"

"I-" the man appeared clearly puzzled by his reaction. "I'm a mutant."

Yasha tilted his head on the side. He couldn't remember Master Pietor or Natalia mentioning mutants at all, so this was a complete new parameter to include in his life.

"Oh, okay. Does that mean you have natural red eyes?" he stepped closer. "Unless you're a demon hidden under human skin? I met one before, it wasn't really nice."

This time, the disbelief was utterly plain and genuine.

"Are you sane, petit?"

"Mama dropped me once or twice when I was a baby," he replied nonchalantly. "So? Does that mean you can do other stuff?"

The man stared again and eventually smirked. He pulled out a deck of cards, shuffled them and threw one in the air. The card glowed purple for two seconds before exploding. Yasha yelped in surprise and jumped back, but a huge grin spread over his face. A couple of ghosts looked interested and commented on the performance. Another one pointed the oddity of a wizard unable to see them. All agreed this must be a muggle with powers, which was extremely rare and unexplained. Yasha bravely ignored the attention they were gathering.

"That is so cool. Do it again?"

The mutant seemed amused this time and indulged him. He even added tricks to show off, with cards flying all over the place and exploding midair, all glowing with the same purple light. Eventually, it gave Yasha an idea.

"How d'you do it? Is there a pattern to follow?"

"Dunno, it just happens." He replied curtly. Yasha frowned.

"Do it again please. And keep it simple."

"Why, you wan' ta try da trick?"

But the man complied. And Yasha thought he got the thing. Energy filled the card pre-explosion. Master Pietor had taught him to manipulate an object from afar, but never let it explode.

"Can I try?"

The man handed him a couple cards wordlessly. He stared intensely at the Seven of Hearts and threw it into the wind. Nothing happened. The man busted into laughers. Yasha glared at him.

"It's not funny."

" _Petit_ , you are." He said, and looked about to add something when voice echoed in the background. "Ah, duty calls.  _Au revoir, petit_." With one last salute, the man turned around and ran in the opposite direction. Two others arrived, dressed in trench coats and looking a lot less friendly.

"Kid, you've seen a guy in a trench coat wandering on the bridge?" one of them asked rather abruptly.

Yasha stared at them blankly and pointed at the other man.

"Your friend's got one. So do you."

The man muttered something about a waste of time and ran past him. Yasha waited until the two were gone to return to the museum. There, he looked for a quiet place and pulled the remaining cards out of his pocket. He picked up one, concentrated and threw it in the air. When it reached an acceptable level, he snapped his fingers. The card exploded in a flash of green. Yasha grinned, returned the others to his inside pocket, and entered into the museum whistling.

_Hogwarts, present time._

Yasha was eating a particularly appetizing piece of chicken when he felt the gaze of the headmaster lingering on him again. Appetite deserted him immediately as he turned to glare at the man again. Dumbledore played innocent and returned to his own dish. That was it. He had enough.

He stood up and started to leave his seat.

"Where are you going?" Perlancott asked, eyeing him with that same curiosity he bore whenever Yasha was about.

"Bathroom," he replied dryly. "Don't follow me."

No-one else paid attention to him leaving the table and the Common Room. Once he was outside, he searched inside his pockets and found some folded parchments.

Perfect.

Yasha hid in the shadows of a pillar and started to work, folding and tearing the paper into an origami with a familiar shape. In the end, his creation perfectly resembled to a spider, barely wider than his hand. The boy smirked in satisfaction and dropped it on the ground. He willed the paper to darken its color in order not to contrast too much with the ground. A brush of his fingers later, the paper arachnid animated itself. Yasha charged a bit of magic in it and willed it to move. The spider sprung alive, legs moving to crawl discreetly under the Hufflepuff table. Yasha waited ten seconds before returning to his seat. Greengrass was on his case right away.

"Oooh, the freak thinks he can leave as he wishes? Where were you off again?"

"Boys' room. Sorry, I don't think you want to follow me there."

Daphne huffed and returned to her plate. Perlancott gave him a suspicious side glance but didn't comment. From the corner of the eye, Yasha watched the paper spider finally walk out from under the Hufflepuff table and head straight to the teachers'. To hide his anticipation, he helped himself with to something that looked like pudding and ate calmly. He watched the spider climb an extremity of the table, make its way to the top and crawl straight towards Dumbledore's plate. The headmaster's eyebrow rose in surprise at the sight. Yasha discreetly snapped his fingers under the table.

The spider exploded in a violent green smoke. Dumbledore's beard light on fire. Reactions were immediate; half of the students stared in shock while Professor McGonagall attempted to extinguish the flames unsuccessfully. It took a few charms from Flitwick to save whatever was left of Dumbledore's beard. Some people stared at the twins, who immediately denied all involvement. Others wondered who could have done this, exchanging suspicious glances, some seeking for Peeves. Dumbledore's gaze stopped on Yasha for a few moments, and so did Snape's seconds later. But he shot them a ' _what, you think_ I'm _responsible?_ ' glare, and returned to his meal, hiding his inner mirth.

Needless to say, it took the headmaster a few days and quite a lot of hair-growth potions for his beard to return in a relatively good state.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**My Name Is Yasha Romanoff**

**10**

Snape was having a bad day. First, a second-year group of Hufflepuffs had messed up their potions by following the instructions of an idiot during a brief moment he was distracted elsewhere. The cauldrons had melted without long-lasting consequences, but a few students had been sent to the Hospital Wing for burns. Then, Madam Pomfrey had come after him about said incident and lectured him for half an hour. And after that, Dumbledore had him brought to his office to ramble about the Romanov/Potter matter. And now he was late in correcting essays he had demanded from fifth years.

All he wanted was a break. Was it too much to ask?

Someone knocked at the door. Snape pinched the top of his nose between his thumb and index finger and muttered:

"What now," and then added on a louder tone: "Come in."

The door was pushed ajar, but no-one entered. Snape felt a wave of irritation grow fast. He could have closed the door with magic, but whoever was on the other side was playing a prank, or unsure of entering. Either way, he needed to yell at someone, relieve his frustrations.

But when he stood up and approached the door, no-one was behind it. What he did notice, though, was the cold. The dungeons weren't warm to begin with, which was half the reason why he'd chosen them for his office -it made the perfect temperature for his ingredients. But this? This wasn't an ordinary cold. This was more of…an evil cold.

His guts tightened in worry and he pulled out his wand. The idea was highly absurd, but what if…what if dementors had infiltrated the dungeons? Snape could only pray they hadn't come across a student; not many knew how to produce a Patronus, or even  _could_  produce one.

He stepped closer to the corner of the corridor, and felt his stomach sink.

A boy was curled into a tight ball against the wall, lying on his side, perfectly still. The Potion Master cursed and hurried towards the body. Slytherin outfit, face hidden in his arms. When he tried to touch him, Snape's hand encountered an unexpected resistance. An invisible wall repulsed his fingers with a small electrical shock and he stood back, stunned. That… _shield_  was highly unusual. He pointed his wand at him, just a precaution, and walked around the prone body.

His heart skipped a beat when he spotted the tiny detail that identified the student; a black carbonado pearl earring peeking out from under the thick black hair.

"Romanov," he called out firmly, keeping the worry at bait bay for now. "Romanov, wake up!"

The boy shivered and made a small sound. It took Snape a few seconds to realize he was whispering something.

"Пожалуйста! Мама!.. Проснись! Мамочка..."

Unexpected relief nearly cut Snape under to his knees. He hadn't been Kissed, but was in the middle of a nightmare. Now all he had to do was wake him up. Although, given the way his whole body tensed, that might not be as easy as he hoped. He didn't understand the words, but there was desperation to them, something that clung to his chest and refused to let go. He extended his left arm, determined to shake the boy in spite of the odd shield surrounding his body.

"Mr. Romano-"

Yakov's hand flew out to grab Snape's arm mid-word and pulled him forwards violently. The Potion Master's head hit the wall hard, but not hard enough to make him lose consciousness. Old reflexes made him roll on the side and narrowly avoided a –he could only call it a blast - that created a crack in the wall. Snape stared at Yakov in astonishment. What the-

''Прочь!  _(go away)'_ ' he shouted in the language the professor now recognized as Russian, but didn't understand.

"Mr. Romanov!" Snape barked and raised his wand. Wrong move.

Another blast of light narrowly missed him and Snape realized something; the boy wasn't  _attacking_ , but defending himself. His eyes were wide and absent, seeing something that wasn't there. The Potion Master hesitated on what action to do when Yakov shouted again:

"Не подходи !  _(don't get closer)_ " his fists were tight and defensive and his shoulders shaking. "Прочь от меня ! _(Get away)_ "

Snape carefully took a few steps back and lowered his wand. Yakov kept intense eyes fixed on him, watching his every move. For a moment, the Potion Master felt like he was facing a cornered animal. One wrong move and he'd dart or bite.

"Mr. Romanov –Yakov," he barked, resolving to use his first name. "Calm down. You are safe here."

"Nyet!" the boy protested. His whole body shuddered and he suddenly looked tired. "Мама…"

_Mama? Mother?_  Snape wondered inwardly.  _Did something happen to his mother?_

Yakov's attention was faltering and his eyes halfway closed. He flinched, leaned against the nearest wall and…dropped. This time when Snape reached out to catch him, the boy didn't fight back. For such a thin thing, he was heavier that Snape expected. The odd shield didn't resurface, much to the man's relief, so he hoisted Yakov into his arms and held him firmly, ready to bring him to the Hospital Wing.

Before he walked away though, he glanced one more time at the wall. The crack created by the blast was larger and deeper than he had first thought. Had it hit him, Snape couldn't decide whether he would have survived it or not. A deep shiver ran through his spine and he glanced at the unconscious boy once again. Yakov looked exhausted and uneasy. A scared 'mama' would drop occasionally from his lips. Snape forced himself to focus on the present and carried his student through the corridors.

_What had happened to him?_  he could only wonder, and hoped Yakov would open up to him. Eventually.

**MNIYR**

Natalia finished making her bed and checked her clock. 06:50. Today's babysitter would soon show up and bring her for another long physical training session. She wondered whose ass she would beat. They kept sending agents in the hopes she would find one capable of a smidge of resistance. Hadn't they learned so far she had been created to be the ultimate spy? She was briefly tempted to call on Agent Hill and ask her straight ahead when this masquerade would end, when someone knocked.

Natalia glanced at the clock again. 06:51. Odd, she thought, they usually wouldn't bother her until 07:00 sharp.

"Hello sunshine!" a cheerful, beaming Clint Barton said, standing behind her door with a brown paper file. "I come bearing gifts. May I?"

It took Natalia two full seconds more than usual to step away and let him in. She hadn't expected to see the man so soon, even doubted she'd see him at all for a long time. Barton stepped in and glanced around.

"Fancy place," he remarked. "You must have been very convincing during your interview."

"You would know; you were behind the glass the whole time." she pointed out blandly.

If he was surprised to hear that she had spotted him, he didn't show it. Instead, he handed her the brown file.

"Your new IDs. We're still waiting for the picture of your son to complete his."

Natalia took it and opened it. Papers and passports with the name Natasha Romanoff, mother of Yakov Romanoff, were awaiting her, brand new. She hasn't changed Yasha's first name, mostly because she didn't feel it necessary. He had gone with Yakov since he was an infant and although he probably wouldn't mind, it was the name she had given him because of his father and she refused to break that tie.

"SHIELD is surprisingly trusting and fast," she muttered. Hill had come to fill the necessary paperwork only five days ago.

"For some reason, Hill seems to believe you are trustworthy," Barton replied. Natalia blinked and stared at him. "Unless she has leverage? That would explain it."

A safe place for her boy was leverage enough, she supposed. And if Hill had magical connections (Natalia –or now Natasha –was still 99 per cent sure she wasn't a witch) and used them, hiding would be a lot harder. And she didn't want to drag Yasha on the run. It wasn't a life she wanted for her boy.

Barton misinterpreted her silence and added with a shrug:

"None of my business, I know. So, you changed your name? What should I call you?"

"Natasha Romanoff." She replied and went on without missing a beat: "Are you my new babysitter?"

"Actually, from now on I'm your SO. Fury said I brought you back, so I might as well take responsibility for you." Then, he frowned. "Natasha Romanoff? Isn't this just an Americanized version of your name? And what about your kid? Yakov's his real name?"

She gave a neutral grunt and turned back her attention on her new identification papers.

"Why didn't Agent Hill bring it to me herself?" Natasha asked. "Is she still busy with the Hulk?"

Again, Barton shrugged.

"As a matter of fact, yeah she is. He kinda destroyed downtown Harlem, so cut her some slack. Why, is there something you needed to talk about with her?" Barton asked, studying her face carefully.

"It doesn't matter," Natasha brushed him aside. If Hill was gaining a promotion, dealing with her was going to become the least of her priorities. She didn't know whether to feel relieved or annoyed by that. A quick glance at the man still standing beside her, and she changed subject: "So how did you become my new chew tow? What happened to…what was his name, Sitwell?"

Barton grinned. "You scarred baldy for life."

"You look happy about that," she noted, raising an inquiring eyebrow. Barton shrugged.

"Sitwell is a sore loser who still owes me fifty bucks. I bet him he wouldn't be able to stand two minutes against you."

Natasha snorted, amused. "You are already betting on my performances?"

" _Romanoff_ , you are a legend. Of course we would bet on your performance."

Natasha rolled her eyes and put the new identities in a drawer next to her bed. It was useless to hide them anyway.

"And how many minutes did he bet you'd hold out against me?" she asked casually as she followed Barton into the corridor.

"I'm slightly better than him. I bet sixty on five."

"Then I hope you're ready to lose," she said with a smirk.

**MNIYR**

Yasha's eyelids fluttered. He was slowly roused from sleep by the disagreeable smell of disinfectant. His body protested when he moved and every limb hurt. His mind was slightly foggy as to why he was here, but he didn't think that lying on a moderately comfy bed meant he was surrounded by enemies. No, if he had to take a guess, he'd say he was stuck at the infirmary. But what the heck was he doing here?

"There he awakes!" a chirpy voice said somewhere besides him.

Yasha fought the urge to groan. Who else than Perl? He forced his eyes open and was met by the stoned ceiling of a part of Hogwarts. When he turned his head to the side, Perl was, as expected, sitting on a chair next to his bed. He wasn't quite surprised to see Hermione there too. Quite.

"Are you all right Yakov?" she asked as she rose from her seat. She looked pale and worried, he'd give her that.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. His own voice sounded cranky and distant. Weak even.

"We were waiting for you to wake up, no need to be grouchy," the Gryffindor huffed, crossing her arms in defiance. "Classes don't start for another half-hour." Yasha nearly snorted; the day Hermione Granger skipped a class willingly, there would be pigs flying outside.

"Don't listen to him Hermione," Perlancott added with a smirk. "He's secretly pleased that we deigned waiting for his awakening. I'm here because I swore I'd become your sidekick. Hermione's here just because she's as much as an outcast from her house as we are. Oh, and we both have nothing else to do."

Said outcast whapped his arm in token protest; Perl faked looking hurt.

"You are idiots," Yasha retorted. Much to his dismay, both ignored him. Another, tiny small part of him was actually… _glad_  they cared?

"Here, eat this," Hermione ordered, handing him something brown. "Madam Pomfrey said it would help you regain some strength."

Yasha forced himself into a sitting position, ignored the spinning in his head, and took what appeared to be a chocolate rock. He hesitated a brief half-second before taking a bite. It was indeed chocolate. And it did indeed make him feel better.

"What happened?" he asked eventually. "I don't remember everything."

"Professor Snape found you in the dungeons. Apparently Dementors have been wandering without permission within the walls of the castle. Snape and Dumbledore were super mad. Seems like you were the only one hurt. No long-term consequences, but you were knocked out for a while," Perl explained, hesitated, and added: "You sure you don't remember anything? Dementors said you were probably about to be Kissed."

Yasha frowned, trying to recollect everything.

"There was a ghost…a ghost eagle?" Yasha hazarded. Hermione and Perl exchanged glances.

"Most likely a Patronus." Perl said with a shrug. "You should ask Professor Quirell, he probably knows a great deal about them."

Yasha snorted.

"Yeah, like the guy actually knows what he's talking about. He keeps sort of explaining but he doesn't go far enough in his presentation. Whatever he says, you find the exact same thing in the books." He turned to the most likely person in the room to know as much as Quirell on the subject and asked: "What can you tell me about Patronus?"

Hermione's face brightened, either at the opportunity to display her knowledge, or at the faith he put into her knowledge.

"The Patronus Charm is the most famous again, and one of the most powerful defensive charms known yet. It's a complicated and very difficult spell that evokes a positive energy force known as a Patronus. It's the primary protection against Dementors since nothing else works against them. Oh, and it also scared off Lethifolds! I read that in the Frantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them."

"Complicated and difficult?" Yasha repeated. "How difficult?"

"A first year couldn't do it." she replied, nodding firmly. "I don't know the specifics, but you must use a lot of energy to create it. I think it'd be hard, even for a seventh year. But I'll know more if there's a book in the Library."

He sought for more answers.

"I don't suppose anyone claimed to have chased off a Dementor lately?"

"Aside from the usual lying boasters? Nope; and the only clue we have is that you saw an eagle 'ghost'." Perl pointed out. "Even that is debatable since you were halfway out. But it's plausible."

Yasha hummed, deep in thought. It couldn't be a teacher, or he or she would have already shown up to let him/herself known. So a student. An elder student then. A Slytherin? Aside from Perl, he barely knew anyone from his house. And according to Granger, a -Patronus Charm, right?- needed a lot of power. And the only 'older' student he more or less knew was Jack Hill. A third year, but still…Yasha sighed inwardly. If Hill had decided to keep a close eye on him, he  _would_  be following him around.

So far, he hadn't gotten interested in the Hufflepuff. Maybe it was time to make further acquaintance. He just needed to figure out an excuse, since they were both in different houses and there was no plausible reason for him to approach him. Aside from sending letters to his mom, but those were supposed to stay secret…

And then he remembered. The Marauder's Map.  _Shit_. He still had today's outfit on and swiftly checked his pockets. His fingers brushed a piece of parchment. Good. He might need that at a later date.

The doors of the infirmary opened and Madam Pomfrey, quickly followed by -Yakov bit back a groan- Dumbledore, let themselves in. The nurse looked scandalized the students hadn't called her the moment Yasha had awoken, and the headmaster rather pleased to see him unharmed.

"I gave him chocolate!" Hermione blurted right away, sensing the nurse's annoyance.

"And he more or less remembers what happened!" Perl added, not to be left out.

"Thank you, Miss Granger, Mister Perlancott." Dumbledore replied for both. "Would you mind leaving us for a while?"

Hermione picked up her school bag reluctantly. Perl sent Yasha an interrogative glance. Yasha subtlety shook his head; he could manage on his own. The Slytherin followed his classmate wordlessly, leaving the three alone.

The moment the door closed, Yasha braced himself for a second round with the old man. He avoided direct eye contact, staring at Dumbledore's forehead instead. He still kept a small eye on Madam Pomfrey, who might observe him on the headmaster's behalf. He suddenly wondered if Snape had told him anything unusual.

"How do you feel, Mr Romanov?"

"Fine," he replied dryly and didn't elaborate, which seemed to annoy Dumbledore.

"Mr Romanov-"

"When can I leave? I don't want to miss classes more than I have to."

"I should keep you for observation for the rest of the afternoon," Pomfrey started.

"I'm fine," he repeated, narrowing his eyes. "And if you want to ask about what happened down there, I was returning to my dorm and I came across two Dementors. No, I don't know what the heck they were doing here. And no, if anyone intervened, I don't know who it was."

"No need to be so defensive," Dumbledore said, raising a hand in sign of appeasement. "I'd recommend you stay longer." Yasha gave him his best ' _you-are-so-full-of-crap_ ' glare. "But if you do feel better-"

"Thank you sir," he interrupted, slipped out of the bed and buttoned up his robe. "Thank you Madam Pomfrey. Have a good afternoon."

"Come back if you feel dizzy, young man!" the nurse warned. Yasha waved a hand over his shoulder and darted through the corridors, glad to escape without needing an open confrontation with the old man. He palmed for the Marauder's Map one more time. The paper creasing under his fingertips made him feel slightly better. Natalia always said that knowledge was power. Now, he had a new weapon to rely on.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There goes the next chapter :) Unfortunately, the updates will come a lot slower now -I had 11 chapters published already on my FF.net account, so now the chapters will be posted as I receive them, meaning at least once every few months..sorry for the delay ^^"   
> In the meantime, enjoy :)

**Chapter 11**

"Very well, class dismissed,." McGonagall ordered after one last glance around the room.

Yasha put his wand back in his pocket and started cleaning up his desk. Today's task had involved transfiguration of a die into a thimble. He discreetly swept one of the unused dice in his pocket for later training, as he usually did after every class. Transfiguration was one of his favorite classes, one in which he took trouble to practice after hours.

"Mr Romanov, could you stay behind for a moment?"

The professor's voice caught him slightly off guard. He glanced at McGonagall, who looked at him expectantly. Perl gave him a side glance, to which he replied with a shrug and motioned him to go ahead. A few others –namely Malfoy and his goons- snickered. He had a vague idea why she'd ask him to stay. Using his wand had truly been a chore lately. His wandless magic functioned perfectly, but he had more and more trouble hiding his abilities. He suspected his lack of success was the reason why she was calling on him.

"It came to my attention that you have encountered difficulties with spell casting." She started once the last student had left the room, and he thought 'bingo'. "You do remarkably well in Potions and Herbology…everything that doesn't involve using a wand."

"I guess I'm a bit behind," he replied with a shrug. He'd have to worry when Neville Longbottom started scoring better than him. Until then he'd still have time to find a way to cheat. "I wasn't expecting to be a wizard till last September. And I'm not used being so far from my family, I miss them a bit," He added, although he wondered how long it would take until they figured out he was just better off without a wand. In the meantime, he could always seek for excuses through emotional distress and the need for adaptation.

"I understand, Mister Romanov," she replied, although she didn't look quite convinced. "But the matter is still the same. Would you like me to assign you a tutor to help you?"

For a brief moment, he thought this could be a golden opportunity to get closer to Jack. If the older boy taught him, he'd have excuses to spend time with him and learn about his objectives. But he didn't know how well the teen did in class, and if he even wanted to. Too many risks to allow a stranger into his comfort zone; and he would probably lose some independence.

"I get along with Granger well enough, maybe I could ask her?" he suggested. McGonagall's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Miss Granger might be otherwise occupied," the teacher said cautiously. Yasha nearly smirked; was she wary of what a Slytherin could do to one of her cubs? "But I suppose asking her first won't hurt."

"I'll do that. Thank you for your concerns professor, I'm sure it's just a matter of time before I get the hang of it."

He waited for her dismissal before walking out of the classroom. Next was Potions, and he was already late. And when he arrived, much to his distaste, Perl wasn't there. Instead, he paired up with another lone Slytherin who tried to let him do all the work. A harsh glare and a low growl had been convincing enough for his classmate to move along, and only then he'd realized he actually wished for his annoying  _sidekick's_  presence. While the boy was mostly annoying, he did make for a good companion, if only to pass time.

As a matter of fact, Perl wasn't the only one absent for the class. Slytherin and Gryffindor shared Potions together, and he didn't hear Granger's attempts to correct Longbottom. He focused on the course instead, and overheard students talking about the Halloween feast and the decorating of the Great Hall. He realized he had been stuck in Hogwarts for two months already and hadn't learned that much, more or less what he had been expecting. As Snape coldly ordered the class to dismiss, Yasha was considering the benefits of quitting and attempting a late entry to one of those schools his former music teacher had recommended him. He'd wait for Christmas to make a final decision, he decided. And then…

"Romanov!"

Yasha glanced around and spotted Perl running towards him with wide eyes. The dark haired narrowed his eyes.

"You weren't in Potions! Where have you be-"

But Perl didn't give him time to speak a word more and pulled his sleeve.

"Hermione's in trouble! You need to come with me!"

Yasha nearly groaned but dutifully followed Perl through the corridors.

"What happened?"

"I overheard some girls talking about Charms class. Hermione corrected Weasley on a spell after she got hers right. But he snapped at her afterwards and she didn't take it well. He said something about hernot having any real friends."

Yasha frowned, feeling slight irritation grow towards the redhead Gryffindor. He still wouldn't call his relationship with Granger a true friendship, but he was growing fond of her. She might be annoying and bossy at times, but she was still the smartest girl he knew. And she  _had_  waited for him to wake up in the infirmary.

"You know where she is?" he asked eventually.

"Girls' bathroom. I've been trying to talk her out of there since we came out of Transfiguration but she won't listen to me."

Yasha didn't dwell on the fact Perl had squatted in the girls' private quarters for an hour and didn't seem bothered by it.

"And you think I have a better chance of convincing her?"

"For some reason, she likes you more." He replied flatly. "C'mon, your turn to try to lure the lion out of its den."

When they arrived at the bathroom, all corridors were deserted. This area was far from the common rooms and most classes had ended at this were most likely in their common room hanging around or doing homework before dinnertime, something Yasha was looking less and less forward to thanks to Dumbledore's persistent inquisitive glances.

"Granger, you're in there?" he called, even though the stiff sobs betrayed the presence of someone. A quick glance at Perl –who nodded encouragingly –and he went on: "You're going to miss dinner if you don't come out now."

"I'm not hungry," a small sobbing voice replied. Yasha sighed dryly.

"You'll miss the show. I heard the Great Hall would be specially decorated for Halloween."

"I don't care!"

Yasha gave Perl an exasperated stare. The boy waved encouragingly. He took a deep breath and decided to face the matter at hand.

"Are you hiding because of what Weasley said?" No answer. "What did he say again?" he asked Perl, whose eyes were widening in panic.

"Uh-" the boy stammered, ill-at-ease and not willing to repeat what had upset Hermione. "He said –uh…"

But it had the effect Yasha was looking for. Hermione's voice, slightly hysterical, replied for him:

"He said I was a shame for Gryffindor! That no-one wants to be my friend because I hang out with Slytherins and that even you aren't real friends, you just tolerate me! And he's right –Aengus is only there because he wants to know about the muggle world and you Yakov, you don't even like me!"

Yasha wanted to bang his head against the wall.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered. "You don't have friends at Gryffindor or in general because you love spreading your knowledge and keep correcting others whenever they make a mistake. They think you think you're better than them 'cause you never make a to mention you are muggleborn, which might irritate wizard-bred people even more. And Slytherin is Gryffindor's natural enemy, of course they won't like that you hang out with us. You're just proving Weasley right by hiding in the toilets."

Perl rolled his eyes and Hermione's sobs doubled in intensity.

"You suck at comforting, you know." The other boy pointed out. Yasha sighed heavily and ran a hand into his hair. Fine, maybe he lacked subtlety but in his defense, the only person he ever had to comfort –and that was, to say the least, rare –was Natalia. And she didn't work much with words. And apparently, words wouldn't work for Granger either.

For a brief moment, he hesitated. There might be one way to lure her out…He turned towards Perl and demanded:

"Lock the door. I don't want anyone interrupting."

While the other boy obeyed wordlessly, Yasha searched his inside pocket for his violin. He restored it to its normal size and started checking the pitch.

"You think music will make it all better?" Perl asked once he returned, and Yasha ignored him. He was more interested by the fact that Granger had stopped sobbing and was very quiet in her toilet. So he had her attention. Good.

He settled his violin against his shoulder more firmly and started to play. He needed something that necessitated some skills, at least enough to lure her out. Vivaldi's Storm was his first choice, mostly because he hadn't touched it for a while, and also because he figured that, being a muggleborn, she'd maybe recognize it. That particular piece was more impressive with an orchestra behind, but he figured this would be enough. After the first few notes, he closed his eyes and let himself go. The melody echoed in the bathroom, until the unmistakable creaking of a door interfered. Yasha ignored the sound, taking it for the small victory he intended to earn. Curiosity would always best one's mood, and he knew that Hermione had wanted to see him play since he had told her about his adventures with the centaurs.

He just hoped she'd appreciate his effort. He didn't play willingly for  _anyone,_  except Natalia and his music teacher. Yasha felt a slight pang in his chest at the thought of his mother. Damn if he wasn't missing her.

_Focus_ , he ordered himself.

Once he was done, he lowered his instrument and stared at his audience. Perl was staring with wide, stunned eyes and Hermione was peeking shyly from behind the cubicle door. Her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks pink, but she was smiling.

"You are good," she said eventually.

"Of course I am," Yasha replied although not arrogantly. He  _was_  good and he knew it, no need to be modest. "The acoustics are terrible though." He added with a frown. "Don't ever make me play in a bathroom again."

Hermione just chuckled and nodded.

* * *

When Natasha returned to her quarters that night, an envelope was waiting for her tucked under the door. Since she had passed her tests and was officially on mission probation –supervised by Barton, but at least she'd be out for some action –Hill had her moved to other quarters with the senior agents and dropped by less and less frequently. Her correspondence with Yasha wasn't under strict surveillance anymore –Hill still read it as a precaution –but she was still not allowed to pick up her mail at the official drop box. Instead, the two women had agreed –or rather, she was forced to agree –to have her letters slipped under her door. Her new quarters had personalized security, only overridden by level 8s, of whom there were very few on base, so she wouldn't need to worry about lower levels attempting to intrude.

So apparently, Yasha had written to her today. Without bothering to change her clothes, she let herself fall back on the bed and opened the envelope. Two pages. She smiled; he must have had a lot to say.

' _Hi mama,'_

The first part summarized how bored he was with school and how actually useless it felt. Natasha was surprised –and maybe a bit jealous –to read that he had played his precious violin to comfort someone. At the same time, she was glad he was making actual friends. Had the girl truly meant nothing to him, he would have just cut the discussion short and 'given her some space to get over it'. The main default of that boy was his bluntness, she decided.

However, she felt shocked reading the next part.

' _You'd never guess what happened on Halloween dinner. Everything was going fine, till one of our teachers –the guy who can't speak of vampires without looking about to faint –barged in and screamed 'troll in the castle!'. You know what a troll is? A big mountain of muscles and no brains dragging a mace. Ugly too. Green-brown skin and smelly. How do I know this? Because when the headmaster oh-so-helpfully ordered students to return in their common room, he apparently forgot that my common room is located near the dungeons. When I told Perl, one of the girls –the one who calls me freak all the time –declared she wouldn't leave the Great Hall and a lot of people approved. The headmaster_ _went_ _back on his decision and declared that everyone should stay in the Great Hall instead, and we finished eating there._

_When the troll was finally found –wandering in the girls' bathroom_ _; it's a good thing_ _we'd_ _coaxed Granger out earlier –a few sneaked out to catch a glimpse. Mostly students of the house of idiots and a few smartasses. Perl and I went too, which is why I can say our school, in my humble opinion, no longer holds the title of 'safest place in Great Britain'. They still have no idea how that thing entered the castle, especially since it's supposed to be afraid of those new guards we have. Seriously, that troll was huge! I'm not sure bullets would do anything to it, and the eyes were so tiny a bullet could barely pass through –and I think that's the only weak point in that big stupid creature's body.'_

Natasha glared at the letter and muttered a curse under her breath. She had sent her boy there thinking he would be safe. Apparently, she was wrong.

' _Anyway, if you ever have the chance, do you think you could look into the music schools I was recommended? I'll check that out during Christmas vacations, because I am definitively not staying at the castle. I really, really can't wait to return and see you.'_

The redhead sighed heavily and made a mental note to inform Hill she'd have to do some side research. She had an inner smile thinking of the agent's reaction; the infamous Black Widow asking to check into music schools.

Someone knocked at her door. Natasha set the letter aside and opened to her visitor. She didn't know why she was surprised to see Barton outside, especially since it had only been about an hour since their last training session. The archer was grinning widely.

"Hope you're ready for some action," he told her bluntly. "We're being called out into the field."

Natasha nearly muttered 'finally', but kept an impassible face instead.

"When do we leave?" she asked instead. Barton shrugged.

"Meeting point in twenty. Coulson's doing the debriefing."

She briefly recalled the plain-looking man, easily forgotten in the corner of a room. Natasha was already in her catsuit, so she closed the door behind and followed him through the corridors.

"You have any idea what this is about?" she eventually asked. The archer shrugged.

"Not much. I just hope SHIELD got us a hotel with a heater. Apparently we're headed to Budapest."

* * *

The huge black dog sniffed the air to check for any intruders and when he found none, went on his way. The corridors were empty at this time of the day; he could nearly smell the delicious odors coming from the feast in the Great Hall. His stomach grumbled a bit and he forced himself to look away and focus on his search. Evading dementors had been easier than expected, but still bringing him back dark memories from his time in Azkaban…He shook his head and continued his merry way.

Earlier that day, he had spotted Harry sitting in an isolated place at the other side of the lake. He could still remember his surprise at the sight. He was his father's son, physically speaking. Black hair, straight posture, a slightly arrogant air to him and what to say about his shape! He looked strong enough, in good health and perfectly balanced. If not a little creepy. Because seriously, long hair? Sirius nearly mistook him for a girl in the afar. And as Dumbledore had confirmed, he was in Slytherin according to his robe. It peeved him a bit to know his best friend's son had ended in the house of the lion's natural enemy. But then again, he could only put the blame on Romanov.

A small voice in the back of his head told him pinning everything on the Russian spy was a bit easy. Maybe he hadn't quite made peace with her yet.

At least, the boy seemed to have a few friends. Another Slytherin and a Gryffindor. And both were all ears as Harry played the violin smoothly. That was another shocker. The violin? A muggle pastime? Then again, he had sounded so lost in his music, so concentrated and content as he played –and Sirius didn't need to be an expert to recognize hours of labor. That morning had also been the reason why he was currently taking the risk of entering the castle so early instead of waiting past nightfall.

_Once Harry had done playing and tucked his violin away, the isolated trio had switched to talking. The dog crept closer and in total silence. Once he was within earshot, he hid in a bush and waited._

" _Why don't you play for a larger public sometime?"The Slytherin boy asked, once Harry was done._

" _Wizards can't appreciate the hard work some people put in mastering a violin, they'd just cast a spell for it to play on its own," he replied dryly. "Magic is just an easy way out."_

" _And you weren't in a music school?" the Gryffindor girl asked with a raised eyebrow._

" _Would have gone there, if it hadn't been for Hogwarts," Harry said, raising both eyebrows. "And even then, I only came because mom thought I'd be better off trying to study magic first."_

_Sirius nearly choked as the girl voiced up his thoughts in a very indignant tone:_

" _You nearly declined Hogwarts?"_

" _I want to be a musician, so magic is not my priority," he replied with a shrug. Sirius wondered if somewhere, James was throwing a fit. "Maybe I'll hire a private tutor later. Why, are you intending to become something in particular?"_

_The discussion went on with the two others speaking of their future projects. Sirius waited a little more, fascinated and bored at the same time, till a Hufflepuff appeared, interrupting their conversation. He was older, so maybe just an acquaintance. Harry seemed to know him but not appreciate his presence much. The two others looked clueless._

" _Hello Romanov," the newcomer greeted. It took Sirius a couple seconds to remember that Harry wasn't actually Harry anymore, but Yakov. He'd have to get used to it, he supposed._

" _Hill," Harry replied politely, albeit a bit confused. "What's up?"_

" _I heard you needed lessons for your magic practice." 'Hill' said nonchalantly. Sirius's attention was piqued: he knew all too well that expression on the Hufflepuff's face. Remus used to have the same whenever he had something in mind. "I'm offering my services. Meet me at six next to the transfiguration classroom?"_

_Harry studied the newcomer with suspicion while his friends started to protest about them being perfectly capable of helping him. They seemed to be missing entirely a silent exchange between the older boy and him. Eventually, Harry broke the silence and replied with a big, fake smile._

" _Sure, I'll be there."_

_Sirius didn't know why, but the Huffelpuff's eyes momentarily glanced in his direction. He tensed and waited, unmoving. Eventually, the teenager left, abandoning Harry to answer questions about his decision. Sirius deemed it prudent to leave the place and decided that is the six-o'clock practice meeting would be a golden opportunity to corner his godson. No matter the little voice in the back of his head whispering it might be a trap._

So there he was, trotting down the corridor that led to the transfiguration class –or so he hoped. He didn't expect classrooms to have switched places in years, especially if old McGonagall was still teaching, but who knew?

His heartbeat suddenly picked up as he spotted his godson barely ahead of him, carrying a piece of parchment with him. Had he been more focused and less happy to see him, Sirius would have recognized the Marauder's Map. But he didn't, and was caught off guard when the boy suddenly glanced in his direction with wide surprised eyes.

When Harry saw him, a hint of recognition crossed his expression and he cursed something like ' _manipulative brat_ ' and ' _stay clear of the situation my ass_ ' under his breath. Sirius did his best to contain his happiness as the boy crouched at his level to pet his head.

"I know who you are Sirius, so listen carefully," he whispered, staring straight in the canine's eyes. Sirius waggled his tail happily; at least that assassin had the decency to tell him _some_  stuff. "I'm flattered you took time to seek me out, but now is not the time. Listen, go find mom; she's your safest bet. I don't know where she is but she will help you if you ask her nicely." Sirius whined in protest. The expression Harry made was oddly comical: "No,  _you_  listen. Go find her. We can always get acquainted properly later. I'm ninety percent sure that asshole knows you're here and it's not safe, especially for you."

The dog whined again and gave him the wide sad puppy eyes; no way was he going to let his godson slip away so fast! The boy's expression turned into a frown.

"Get the fuck out!" he hissed between gritted teeth. "I want to talk to my Godfather in person, not under that shape," he glared at the canine, "and certainly not under the risk of you getting caught. Am I being clear?" he added, using an intimidating ' _you-obey-me-right-now-or-I'll-strangle-you-with-my-bare-hands_ ' expression. He must have inherited that one from Romanov. "If finding Mom is too much of a hassle, just wait for us at the train. I'm heading home for Christmas, got it? Now go!"

The idea was reasonable, Sirius reflected. And at least, Harry seemed to use his head more than James did. Lily's influence? The dog left out a heavy sigh and turned around. As much as he hated it, Harry was right. Now wasn't the time. He picked up his pace, tail waggling on the way. His godson knew him. His godson knew him, and wanted to meet him. He wanted to meet him, but also had set a date for their meeting, a date and a place far from Hogwarts. Maybe he couldn't have completed the talk he had intended to, but Sirius felt this was an appropriate compromise. Now all he had to do was lurk around London till Christmas came.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Minerva McGonagall was upset. Rumors had been running lately, about a certain Boy-Who-Was-Missing being alive and at Hogwarts. At first, she had disregarded it as a prank or someone trying to get some attention –every student loved the last 'did you hear?' and adding Potter in the mix would, of course, make it more interesting. But then, after hearing it the last twist, where he had a different name, a small part of her mind started doubting. Students, of course, would believe the rumor because they didn't want their hero to die. McGonagall would hope it was true for she couldn't believe the child of two of her most talented students gone.

Black had never confessed where he had hidden Harry; never confirmed his death. She wouldn't deny she had hoped to see a familiar face among the students this year, and had been sorely disappointed when, the list in hand, the name Potter hadn't appeared.

Still, what had started as a rumor was getting on her nerves as a fourth student –Hermione Granger of all people- asked if indeed the Boy Who Lived had joined Hogwarts. She had denied it of course, but she had still headed to the headmaster's office. Dumbledore would know, if Harry Potter was back among them. He wouldn't have kept the fact silent…would he?

She disregarded another student's attempt to catch her attention and muttered the password to the gargoyle. The statue moved aside and she climbed fast the stairs leading to his office. Not waiting to hear him allowing entrance, she pushed the door and asked:

"What are these rumors about –" she started and stiffened.

Dumbledore wasn't alone. Sprout and Quirell were there, sitting across his desk. And then she suddenly remembered they were supposed to be there for a meeting on their respective classes. Her intervention didn't fall in the right timing. She felt embarrassed all of a sudden, that a student's fun had made her lose all composure.

"Sorry Headmaster," she apologized "I shall come at a later-"

"Nonsense Minerva," he interrupted her amiably. "Please come in. I have rarely seen you so agitated."

Sprout and Quirell both looked worried and rightfully so. McGonagall was never –or at least nearly never- put off by things; which made her feel even guiltier.

"If you have concerns about anything," Dumbledore went on gently,"You may speak them out loud."

Minerva hesitated, wondering how foolish her colleagues would find her at this very moment, but then continued. She needed confirmation that this was all just a hoax that had gained more popularity than it warranted.

"There have been rumors, about Harry Potter attending Hogwarts under a different name."she said slowly. Her colleagues stared at her in mild disbelief. "Albus, I know this is nonsense and I should know better, but-"

The old man raised a hand to interrupt her.

"The rumor started because of an assumption of mine," he admitted. "A student I suspect being Harry Potter has joined our ranks. He bears a strong resemblance to James Potter, and some factors led me to believe his official name was changed, which is why he wasn't invited to Hogwarts under his real name."

The three professors exchanged a puzzled glance.

"Magic would have recognized the change?" Sprout asked eventually."How is that even possible?"

"I believe it could be related to Voldemort's action that night. When Sirius Black took Harry away, he obviously brought him to someone he knew and trusted. I visited him two months ago, the day before he escaped. Although he was acting irrationally, I know he is aware of Harry's new name." He sighed with a hint of annoyance."I only realized it recently."

McGonagall frowned deeply.

"So, _you_  started the rumor?"

"As a matter of fact, I did. I was hoping to help that student to accept his history and come forward. My first attempt to talk to him was…disastrous, for the least."

A heavy silence fell on the room; mostly as the teachers had not expected such an abrupt revelation. Quirell was the first to break it.

"What should we do?"

"Nothing for now." Dumbledore replied slowly. "He has an agitated mind and might believe we are the enemy if the subject isn't handled subtly. When I tried to broach the subject with him, he rejected me quite…violently. I'd recommend you leave him alone till the right time comes. I will talk to him then."

* * *

The Quinjet had taken off a while ago, driven by a pilot with only Clint and his partner as passengers. He had first wanted to catch up on some sleep during the trip, but since their driver was one of the worst, he'd settled for a book he had packed at the last minute. And when it became clear he wouldn't be reading comfortably as he had first planned, he turned his attention to Natasha. She was holding a sort of magazine which cover had been darkened so as to not reveal its subject. He stood up and stepped closer, intrigued.

"What are you looking at?"

Natasha didn't spare him a glance, so he peeked from over her shoulder. The contents made him pause.

"Uh…Romanoff, is that a…"

She interrupted him with a sharp:

"It is."

Clint should have abandoned the subject, but he was too dumbfounded to back off now.

"I didn't peg you for a…"

"I'm not."

"So why are you…"

"None of your business."

The archer paused and stared again at the catalogue his new partner was skimming thing came to mind.

"How on earth did you manage to get your hands on –"

"You're a spy, figure it out." Natasha cut, sounding irritated now.

"Actually, I was in the army," he nuanced before continuing: "Is that for your kid?"

She glared at him, probably a warning before she set her magazine aside and thought of a dozen ways to kill him without alerting the pilot. Clint sighed and returned to his seat. A few moments passed and he became in dire need of a distraction. A bored Hawkeye was an annoying Hawkeye, as Romanoff would quickly find out.

"Is he any good?" he asked, genuinely curious.

This time, she didn't even pretend not to know what he was referring to.

"A professional called him a diamond in the rough. He's basically a virtuoso," she replied calmly, but the hint of pride was definitively there. Her expression turned into a frown and he realized he wassmirking. "What?"

"It's cute, you looking so proud." He teased. Natasha glared at him so he added on a softer tone: "You miss your son."

"He's not my son," she snapped dryly.

"Yeah I know; he's just someone's kid you were paid to look after. But he's still your boy," Clint pointed out gently. "That's what you kept calling him, when I was tailing you. Didn't you raise him?" She didn't answer, and kept her eyes set on the wall. "Never mind, I'm just being nosy."

The silence that ensued wasn't comfortable but Clint didn't try to engage in conversation again. He knew he had to keep his distance on this one. Romanoff was still very careful regarding any information concerning her son. No matter what she claimed, he would recognize anywhere the flashes of protectiveness in her eyes.

Romanoff returned to reading her catalogue on the best music schools in the world and he resumed staring out the minutes later, he was charging back.

"So what's he like? I mean, I know what he looks like –and he is a cute kid, but what is he like?"

"He's the quiet kind," she replied, glaring at him again. Clint got the hint, but it only made his grin grow wider.

"For some reason, I'd bet he's good at sneaking and playing pranks." Romanoff didn't reply. "Say, what's the worst he's done? Last time I tried to prank Sitwell I had to bribe the secretary with chocolate to go through the front door. I bet he'd be awesome sneaking in the air vents. Think I can borrow him a few times to steal coffee from Hill's private stash? Rumor says she's got the best on base."

"Yasha will not become an agent," Romanoff replied coolly. Clint's grin faded a little.

"No-one is recruiting him," he said seriously. "And even if they tried, Fury doesn't hire kids. He thinks they're too troublesome." The woman kept staring wordlessly and he shrugged. "You don't trust SHIELD; it's fine, they don't trust you either. But once you're in, once you've proven yourself, you won't have to worry. If SHIELD promised to keep your boy safe, then he will be." He added softly: "You'll learn that eventually." Then the megawatt grin returned. "So, which school is the most popular right now?"

Romanoff rolled her eyes and returned her attention on her magazine.

* * *

Perl was bored. Teachers had been nice lately, not overwhelming them with homework and things with his peers quite calm. In normal times, he would have followed Romanov and bug the hell out of him –Romanov was easily ticked off, and Perl loved it. But lately the boy had had an effective way of avoiding him. Today though, he had warned Hermione that he'd be returning to the Forbidden Forest to teach a centaur how to play the violin.

The Gryffindor hadn't even tried to hold him back –not that Perl blamed her, once Romanov had an idea in mind…the only way to stop him would be to jinx him with a body-bind curse, double tie the body and hide him under three padlocks in a closet. And a troll to guard the entrance. Hermione knew that too. She had probably sighed and waved him to be careful and back before nightfall. That's what he would have done too. And with Romanov gone that left Hermione –who was probably working on an essay or something. While Perl was a good worker, he was in no mood for homework right now.

None of the other Slytherins spoke to him either. Showing up with Romanov would kill anyone's popularity at the moment. No-one willingly addressed him unless they absolutely needed to, and while that was an endless source of amusement for the half-blood, it didn't gain him any friends.

So he had decided to wander in parts of the castle he hadn't explored yet to kill time until dinner, pretending to be a muggle spy, silently gliding among the corridors. Romanov always seemed to sense his arrival each and every time he tried to sneak on him. Now he could-

"-don't care what you think is best, I'm not standing near Romanov one second more!"

Perl suddenly stopped as he overheard his sort-of friend's name. This part of the castle was often deserted, which was why he had come here, but apparently, someone who wanted to speak away from curious ears had the same idea. Had the door of an apparently empty classroom not been slightly opened ajar, Perl would have never noticed it.

"We had an agreement," another voice replied to the first one.

The boy carefully stepped closer to the entrance and tried to peek inside. From the corner of the eye, he could barely spot the back of a teenager who was facing someone in front of him. "I don't care, he's freaking me out." The first person added –feminine, and a voice he had already heard somewhere. "He carries a dark artifact with him, he  _reeks_ of dark magic at times. And he doesn't even seem bothered by it."

"Dumbledore wouldn't let him wander freely in the castle if he was so dangerous. Trust me, he's good."

"Dumbledore wouldn't recognize Dark Arts even if it kicked him in the face." The girl –not a woman, Perl corrected mentally –retorted hotly. "I'm sorry, but you can get the enhancer back." There was a slight pause as the girl –Perl assumed –gave the other person something. "I loved using it. I could do things I would only do as an adult and it was a great experience; but its power is terrifying. I'm not testing it again, not until my magic is properly stabilized. And you shouldn't either. You have no idea what you're dealing with."

"Calm down," the other person said, his voice quiet. "I'm just asking for another week. From what I could get out of him the other day, he's not keen on staying at Hogwarts much longer."

Perl's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Only a few people knew about Romanov's reluctance to remain at Hogwarts. Sometimes even he wondered what held him back here. Perl liked the idea that he and Hermione were good enough reasons, but he wasn't stupid, his friend was meant to play his damn instrument forever. And music was not in the Hogwarts school program.

One of the two people sighed deeply.

"Okay." The girl said reluctantly. "I…I'll keep an eye out, just as I promised. Just don't expect me to stay too close."

"Good." Pause. "Wait a moment."

The figure disappeared from Perl's point of view. He unconsciously followed forward. The door opened wide and he was suddenly facing the tip of a wand. A blonde teenager from Hufflepuff –he recognized Jack Hill –stood at the other end, eyebrows raised in mid-surprise.

"Oh, another snake," he merely said. Perl grinned, trying to replace uneasiness by cockiness or something. Hill just narrowed his eyes. "Well then, sorry for this kid.  _Obliviate_."

* * *

The drive to the hotel lasted longer than Barton would have liked; being too close to the center of town didn't put him at ease. Would it be up to him, he'd rather stay at the outskirts of the city, where evacuation was easier in case someone tried to come after him. In the middle of the city, he could not avoid bystanders. On the plus side, it was a nice hotel, surrounded by lots of high buildings, perfect for a quick escape via rooftops.

They reached the door and stepped inside. For once, it was a nice and clean place with soothing colors; and no dump dating from the last war.

"So are we getting cozy in there?" she asked sarcastically. Clint blinked, at first in misunderstanding, and then realized what she was asking. In the far end of the room, a single king-sized bed.

"Hell no!" he immediately protested. "We're supposed to be business partners in this, not newlyweds!"

The redhead gave him a flat look.

"So you didn't order the booking?"

He threw her an exasperated stare.

"Romanoff, you are one of the most gorgeous women I've ever met, but even I know when something is off-limits. And I didn't agree to bring you back to SHIELD because I wanted to get in your pants." The redhead kept her expression carefully blank. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Look, I'll take the floor. Or better, I'll call the reception for another room." He was rambling at this point, but he would rather look like an uncomfortable idiot rather than risking losing something a lot more valuable.

The redhead snorted –was it amusement he read in her eyes?- and shook her head.

"No need to. I've already slept in worst conditions with worst people. We'll be fine as long as you keep your hands to yourself."

Clint nearly sighed in relief and took his own suitcase.

"Fine. Got nothing with taking the left side?" he asked and waited for her nod to claim the right side of the bed. He started undoing his own stuff and felt Romanoff stand by his side. For a few seconds, he felt the intensity of her gaze on his back.

"I do." she suddenly said quietly. "I miss him."

Clint blinked at her in mild-surprise, but Natasha was already spreading her attire for the evening. He stared at her a few moments more before returning to his own business. Still, he smiled to himself. Maybe she was starting to open up to him a little.

* * *

As he had never encountered centaurs before, never in his wildest dreams Yasha would have dared imagined he would one day attempt to teach music of all things to one of them. Yet here he stood in the Forbidden Forest, sitting in a surprisingly nice green patch of grass, with an overenthusiastic Chestre holding a violin. Not  _his_  violin of course, but one that had been transfigured from a wooden box by Jack a few days ago. The brief thought of the teenager made him pause.

"So I put my hand here, and then what?"

Neatly distracted, Yasha nearly rolled his eyes for the third time. He climbed on the rock to be at the centaur's level and replaced the end of the instrument against his chin. He then raised the other arm holding the bow and guided the hand over the strings.

"That's the position," he explained slowly. "After that, it's a matter of knowing what sound to make at the right moment." Yasha picked up his own violin and played three notes. "Hear?"

"Yes, yes indeed," the centaur replied, frowned in concentration and attempted to reproduce the sounds. Both winced at the horrible dissonance. Yasha shut his eyes tight, trying to think around. Chestre was willing and eager to learn, but how did one teach to play the violin to someone who will never read a music partition?

"Okay look," he showed his bow and twirled it around. "The bow, depending on how you hold it, can produce many sounds. It's best if you hold it straight to begin with." He corrected the position andaccompanied a gesture smoothly. The intended sound was heard, and Chestre beamed.

Yasha tried to smile:

"I started playing at seven, so I have a few years of training ahead. Not to mention I have a natural talent," he added. "So first you need to play with the sounds and figure out your own pattern. In the human world, we use what we call a partition; which is a book where notes are written down. Each note corresponds to a sound. I can try to teach you…"

Chestre smiled sadly.

"Your offer is appreciated, young one, but I will not burden you with such a task; especially since you are on the edge of a new beginning."

Yasha frowned and stared at him in questioning. The centaur shrugged.

"The stars shone bright yesterday night; they announced an upcoming change in the wizarding world." He set piercing brown eyes on him. "You have decided to leave Hogwarts, have you not?"

The boy grimaced. His decision had first been a rash impulse from the troll encounter, but after some time, he had yet to firmly decide. Yes, he wasn't learning as much as he wanted, yes, Dumbledore's non-subtle hints and rumors were getting on his nerves, and yes, he missed Natasha and his professional violin practice above all. But he had encountered people, had made friends and while the cons overpowered the pros, he still wasn't sure he wanted to leave. Maybe he needed one more reason, one more little detail that would keep him here or make him run to the hills.

"Probably." He replied instead. "My choices aren't definite."

But Chestre smiled knowingly, and Yasha felt annoyed.

"Are the stars always correct in their predictions?" he retorted.

"We see things differently than humans do," the centaur said, shrugging carelessly. "I would recommend you regroup your possessions fairly soon though." Upon those words, Chestre shook his body in a horsy way then turned towards Yasha, showing the violin he held in his hands. "I assume this is mine to keep?"

The boy nodded and reduced his own to a small size that would fit in his pocket again. Obviously the lesson was over.

"If it ever breaks, go see a student named Jack Hill. He's the one who transfigured the thing. He can make you a new one. Oh, and the strings on the bow are made of horse hair." He pointed at Chestre's tail. "I don't think you'll have trouble finding those."

The centaur smiled good-naturally and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"Farewell my friend. I hope you find goodness in your way. Do you remember the way out?"

This time, Yasha had taken his marks. After all, Chestre hadn't brought him too deep in the Forbidden Forest; finding the way out from here wouldn't be a challenge. He nodded, bid the centaur goodbye and went his merry way back to the castle. He arrived there shortly and immediately headed to the library. He was sure he would find at least Hermione there, and if Perl was off god-knows-where, then he'd just take the Marauders' Map back in his dorm and use it to track him down. He wanted to talk to them before making any final decision. Maybe they'd help him see clearer.

As he expected, Hermione was sitting at a table alone, surrounded by half a dozen books. He swiftly sat across her and caught her attention by snapping fingers. She must have been deep in concentration, as she nearly tumbled off her chair when she noticed him.

"Listen," he said, cutting her before she could speak. "I need to talk to you and Perl, in private." Hermione raised an inquisitive eyebrow, but he didn't elaborate. "You happen to know where Perl is?"

"I think he went for a walk or something," she said, thinking deeply. "What's going on?"

"Meet me at the astronomy tower in half an hour. Tell Perl if you find him first.I don't want anyone overhearing us."

The Gryffindor's eyebrow shot to her forehead.

"What? Why there? There are plenty of empty classrooms at this time."

_An e_ _mpty classroom is where Dumbledork will look first if he thinks I'm plotting something_ , Yasha thought. What he said was: "Look, just do as I say, okay? I promise I'll explain everything in due time. Can I count on you?"

Hermione scoffed, as if offended he could even doubt her, and returned to her essay. Yasha left the table and headed to the dungeons, firmly determined on getting the Marauders' Map to good use for the next few hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Till next time! :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There goes! Sorry for the long wait ^^"

**Chapter 13**

 

**Budapest**

 

The mission was meant for rookies. Infiltration, information retrieval, departure. The target was not to be killed unless absolute necessity. The place where the action was supposed to happen was a ballroom, plenty of means for approach and subtle questioning. Seduction was just a means to an end, and the Widow wasn’t even asked to go further than flirting and making out. Clint would be there for cover in case things turned sour. Clint also knew she wasn’t used to having someone watching her back and suspected he was also there to take a shot should she stray.

He had no intention of doing the latter, even if she did stray.

Romanoff entered the room. Half the men near the door paused to stare at her. Clint had to admit she looked good in that black and golden dress, hair loose over her shoulders and fancy shiny jewelry. From his vantage point, he saw her eyes met the target’s and she smiled. Even from afar, Clint had to admit it looked genuine. If that smile had been addressed to _him_ …

_Mission_ , he reminded himself and kept scanning the room. An orchestra in the far end of the room, mostly well-dressed bourgeoisie, a couple of elderly men in the corner…The com in his ear let him hear everything she said, banalities spoken with a snobbish accent that fit her persona. The target eventually approached her and asked for a dance. The bait was hooked, they just had to wait for the perfect opportunity to reel in.

Everything seemed to go smoothly, yet Clint had a bad feeling in his guts. He couldn’t explain why, but his survival instincts were screaming that he had missed something. So he breathed in deeply and checked again each and every guest in search of a hint of familiarity. Found none.

Unfortunately, he was proven right fifteen minutes in. The orchestra suddenly stopped, musicians left their instruments behind and exited the room. As if this had been a signal, every other guest followed suit and headed to the exit. He caught Romanoff trying to follow the flood, but her route was stopped by another guest –or was it a goon working for someone?

“Just say the word Widow,” he whispered in the com. His bow was in position, ready to fire if she asked him to.

He caught the very light nod she made, too discreet to be noticed unless you were looking for it. When the guests were done evacuating, only seven people remained: one elderly man in a expensive suit, a woman in an old red dress holding a small handbag big enough to carry a gun or two, and four other men with obvious training. Each of them had retrieved a gun and was pointing at her.

_“Ivan_ ,” she greeted in return. _“Long time no see.”_

The com wasn’t powerful enough to catch their conversation, but Clint could still hear Romanoff’s part.

_“Why should I even consider following you?”_ she asked disdainfully. _“Freelance has its perks. And I like my memories as they are.”_ She waved at the men surrounding her. “ _Are these the new generation of Black Widowers? I never thought you’d ever get tired of little girls.”_

The old man seemed to seethe but laughed instead and replied something that made Romanoff’s eyes tighten in anger.

_“You will be the first to go, copy that?”_ she said, and Clint understood she was addressing him.

“Just say the word,” he repeated, and aimed carefully.

“ _Now_!” the redhead barked as she took out the nearest goon. Clint let the arrow fly and dig itself in the man’s eye socket and shot the two others before they could react fast. Bullets were exchanged and Clint shot down the woman before aiming at the remaining two. He hadn’t needed to worry though, Romanoff had already taken care of them. Her hair was in a slight mess but her dress was mostly intact. A couple of hand arrangements and she was as good as new.

_“Meet me at the extraction point,_ ” she ordered as she glanced around for an escape route.

“Copy that,” he replied.“And be safe.”

After she had disappeared through the fire escape, Clint ran and slipped back in the hotel room through the window. He rapidly packed up his stuff (their bags were always ready for imminent departure, but he had left a few clothes on the bed), called Coulson for an update and waited for his partner to show up. She did fifteen minutes later, still impeccably dressed. One day, he mused, he would get the secret on how badass women managed to always look great even after some field action.

“Red Room,” she announced as an explanation, which was far from enough. “The building will be surrounded and invaded within minutes,” she announced as she passed the door and grabbed her own bag. “I hope you have munitions.”

Clint handed her favorite gun wordlessly and grabbed his folded bow.

“Any exit strategy in mind?” he asked casually. She narrowed her eyes.

“I had other priorities to think about. Mainly the couple of henchmen trying to shoot me. But the roof, front door and back door are compromised now.”

The archer raised a hand and pointed to the building across the street.

“What if we jump next building, like I did when I bust through your window at our first meeting? It’s dark out there, plenty of cover.”

Natasha stared at him.

“Do it.”

Clint pulled out the right arrow, opened the window and shot. He managed to secure a cord across the street, just above another open window. Hopefully, he thought, he wouldn’t freak out the people living there too much.

“You go first,” he ordered, checking the solidity of the cable. “I’ll close.”

Natasha didn’t protest; she grabbed a belt that would serve as holder and jumped without hesitation. Clint waited until she had reached the other side to prepare to launch. Behind their door, he could already hear people walking in great number. Better not linger then,he thought as he jumped in turn. The only reason he wanted to go after her was because if the rope was cut before arrival, he still had another arrow to spare. He was used to rappelling in mid-air anyway.

The apartment wasn’t empty when he landed; a young woman was staring at Natasha with terrified wide eyes. Natasha kept her eyes straight on her, a finger over her mouth to invite silence. Thankfully, the woman seemed too shocked to even think of reacting.

“We should go,” Clint said, closing the window behind them after cutting the rope. Just before it shut, he caught glimpse of a few heads peeking out of the exit he’d just taken. “Thank you for your cooperation, ma’am.”

The stranger nodded and promptly fainted. Natasha rolled her eyes and headed towards the exit. They both walked out the back door in the street and headed into darkness. Fortunately, their hotel was located in a place with plenty of places to hide. On the other hand, it gave plenty of room for ambush too. After walking quietly for five minutes, Clint announced:

“Phil says the extraction point is outside the city. How good are you at hijacking a car?”

 

**Hogwarts**

 

The dungeons were empty, mostly thanks to the clement weather outside and the near ending of classes, so Yasha didn’t cross a soul when he returned to his dormitory. Chestre’s words echoed in his head all the way to his bed. So the centaur believed he would soon be gone? Yasha didn’t believe in premonitions and stuff like that, but as his mother said, better safe than sorry. So he pulled from his trunk a medium-sized backpack and stuffed it with clothes, muggle ID papers and a few other things he deemed necessary for a quick departure. Everything he would leave behind, he could replace.

He patted his inside pocket and checked the presence of his violin. The last gift Master Pietor had left behind before leaving without a word. Ever since his ‘training’ session with Jack, he never left it out of his sight. The Hufflepuff had been very interested, maybe a bit too interested, in studying it.

Fingers ran over the miniaturized instrument through his clothes and Yasha swallowed heavily.No-one knew about that violin’s secret. No-one aside from him and Master Pietor. He hadn’t even breathed a word to Natasha. And now that Hill had heavily hinted that he knew more than he was letting on…Maybe he should leave after all.

Yasha finished packing his bag and stuffed it in the far corner of his luggage. The Marauders’ Map in his pocket, he made his way back to the astronomy tower and waited at the entrance. Hermione arrived a few minutes later, but Perl was nowhere in sight.

“Perl isn’t there?” he asked, annoyed. Usually the boy stalked him the moment he returned at the castle. Yasha found it ironic that the one time he wanted the boy around, he wouldn’t be there. Hermione shook her head negatively.

“I didn’t see him in the corridors. Do you want to go look for him?”

Yasha hesitated a moment. He wanted this talk to be over with, but he wanted the two people he had come to like to be there when he did. A quick glance at his watch told him he didn’t have enough time to run through the whole castle before dinnertime.

“Fine,” he muttered, climbed a few steps into the tower to hide from the corridor and pulled the Marauder’s Map from his pocket. He had the intention of showing it to them anyway; better start by testing Granger’s reaction. “You better tell no-one about this.” He brushed the parchment with his finger and whispered: “ _I solemnly swear I am up to no good._ ”

The map animated itself, under Hermione’s wide surprised eyes. Yasha couldn’t help but smirk a little; the Gryffindor was rarely caught off guard.

“This…this is incredible! Where did you find it?”

“I borrowed it from the Weasley twins,” Yasha replied shortly, not wanting to explain how he had stolen the artifact; which had probably been stolen in the first place.

Granger was too entranced and fascinated by the map to rant about rules and other things. Yasha remained silent. He knew she would eventually look for their names, knew she would frown in puzzlement and wonder why the discrepancy with reality. And when he heard her inhale sharply, he braced himself at what would come next.

“Wait a moment.” She said. “That name isn’t-“

“I know,” he interrupted. The girl stared in disbelief. He read the wheels running in her eyes until they stopped and she whispered:

“So the rumors are true?”

“I don’t want to know which rumors you are talking about, and right now I don’t care.” He shot her his best warning glare. Granger straightened slightly, never having been at the full receiving end of it. “You better tell no-one about this. I am serious. Not even a teacher, even less the headmaster,” he added afterthought.

“But people would be relieved to know you –I mean _you_ are fine! People have been looking for you everywhere!”

“And what good will it do for them to know? Please, don’t try to make me believe students won’t start gawking at me or calling me a liar or an attention-seeker or even an arrogant show-off if they figure out that name. I probably won’t stay in Hogwarts for long any-”

Yasha paused in his sentence. He had been checking without conviction the Gryffindor area, when his eyes had rested on a name he never thought he’d read on the map.

Peter Pettigrew.

Yasha felt his blood boiling and thoughts racing. The map could have been wrong of course, but he had tested it enough to trust its veracity. And while the possibility was nearly impossible to be true, this _was_ the magical world. As far as he knew, Sirius hadn’t killed him that night –or rather, that’s what Natasha suspected, and so Pettigrew had been on the run for ten years.

He examined it closer. Pettigrew’s name was hanging near a group of Gryffindor students –Yasha snorted: Longbottom, Weasley and other crappy kids –and standing very close to the redhead boy. Something clicked in his mind. On the first day on the train, Weasley had a pet with him. A rat.A _rat._ Natasha had told him the man had the ability to change into a rat. Was this where the man had been hiding all this time? Among a pureblood family? Pretending to be an animal all this time to protect himself? Here, at _Hogwarts_ of all places? That man had some cheek. And he had dared to wander right under _his_ nose?

Fists tightened and fingernails dug into the soft flesh of his palm. Yasha glared at the map, wondering what he should do. His first instinct was to head straight to Gryffindor and kill the rodent. His second thought ran to his godfather on the run, and how a trial would be harder to go throughif Pettigrew disappeared.

He pursed his lips and gave himself a minute to think.

He couldn’t go after Pettigrew right away; that much was obvious. And if he was going after Pettigrew, he was doing it discreetly. To execute _that_ plan, he needed to snatch the rat away from its pseudo-owner first. Then, learn a way or a spell to reverse the metamorphosis. If the rat turned out to be a man, it would help to have a back up. Who could he ask? None of his classmates would be involved, he immediately decided. He didn’t want to dragGranger and Perl into something that might not end well and he didn’t trust Jack Hill for a second. Perhaps he should wait until Christmas time, on the train, to subdue the rodent? Christmas time wasn’t that far but would he be patient enough?If he caught the rodent wandering in the corridors…

“Yakov!”

Yasha blinked and glanced at Granger. She looked worried and slightly scared.

“What’s going on? You weren’t listening for a moment.”

“Sorry, got lost in thoughts.” He hesitated, and set the Pettigrew issue aside. The man had been hiding as a rat for ten years. He would hide a couple days more. “That’s half the reason why I wanted to talk to you. Both of you,” he added with a slight frown and returned to scan the map. “Say, can’t you read Perl’s name on this?”

Hermione joined the search and found him fast.

“He’s in the dungeons with Malfoy and Crabbe and Goyle.” She frowned. “You must have crossed each other in the corridor. Do you want to go after him?”

Yasha frowned. Perl alone with Malfoy and his goons? That didn’t sound good.He whispered a ‘ _Mischief Managed_ ’ and slid the map back in his pocket. Granger followed him wordlessly as they returned in the corridor and headed to the donjons. They arrived at the moment where they could hear Malfoy say:

“Your only redeeming quality is your pureblood lineage Perlancott. Without it, I would have crushed you long ago.”

“Like you’re determined to crush Romanov?” Perl’s voice chanted back. “I can see you’ve been trying real hard.”

“I am not afraid of that mudblood!” Malfoy retorted hotly. Yasha figured this was a good moment to step in.

“Malfoy,” he greeted calmly. Upon his sight, Perl grinned brightly. The blonde boy sneered at him and his two gorillas stared indifferently.Yasha sighed inwardly. Apparently, Malfoy-the-Pureblood still hadn’t forgiven him for vomiting on his shoes. “I didn’t realize cornering a single person against three was in Slytherin’s traditions. Do unity and other similar notions still exist in this House?”

“You’re nothardly one to talk,” Malfoy hissed. “You are just another mudblood, hanging with even lower mudbloods,” Yasha felt Granger tense in the background. While he didn’t give a damn about terminology and words –since words held more power if they affected him –he knew the girl wasn’t as indifferent. A faint itch of annoyance started blooming in his chest. He didn’t like when girls got upset in general, but Granger was…closer to him. He wondered if that was the sort of protectiveness someone felt when they had friends to defend. “You have nothing to do among Slytherins.” The blond took a few steps forwards and crossed his arms. “You are a _shame_ to this House.” 

Yasha raised an eyebrow in return.

“Actually, I’ll let you know I’m a half-blood. Everyone just assumed I have only muggle parents,” he said casually. Malfoy blinked. “And since I was never truly integrated in this House, I can’t care less. But I will warn you, and only once.” He took a step forward too and stood within the blonde’s comfort zone. They were equal sized, so he could stare into his eyes without looking away. “Call Hermione a mudblood again, and I _will_ hurt you.”

Crabbe and Goyle laughed. Malfoy smirked. Granger and Perl stared at him in shock; he had never called her ‘Hermione’ before.

“Hermione Granger the mudblood,” the blond repeated provocatively. Yasha sighed, stepped back.

Malfoy never saw the fist cracking his nose coming.

 

**Budapest**

 

They had been unbothered for a full time of twenty one minutes. But when Natasha spotted the black van engaging in the street, she knew they had to hurry.

“Undesirable vehicle on your six,” she announced. Barton, who was sitting on the passenger seat, turned around and glanced over the back window. He muttered a curse and reached for his bow, swiftly sliding down the window.

“You think you can lose them?” he asked, checking their pursuers in the rear mirror. Natasha snorted as two more vans appeared on the side.

“Get rid of one or two, I can deal with the last.”

Barton saluted, breathed in, pulled his bow out the window and awkwardly aimed at one of the vans. The arrow was loose before gunshots started echoing in the streets. Bullets crippled the back window. The sound of honks and a car crashing into something made them both glance back. One of the vans was lying on the side. Natasha caught him counting back from five, four, three, two…

The arrow must have been an explosive, as the van suddenly burst into flames and exploded ten seconds after. Thankfully, civilians had enough time to get away from any falling fragments. While Barton ‘yoohoo-ed’ at the temporary victory, Natasha returned her attention on the road, firmly decided to bring them back safe and sound. She shifted gear and ran through the streets at great speed. Another lucky shot definitively broke the back window and exploded the rear mirror. Barton, always the opportunist, slid in the backseat and shot another arrow. The second van’s front left tire exploded and the car twisted and, as it spun, blocked the access to the other. By this time, ordinary drivers –or the few that were out at this hour of the night –had largely driven far from their trajectory, leaving a full empty lane for them to use.

“Full gas Romanoff!” Barton barked excitedly. They had almost reached the edge of the town, not too far from where Agent Coulson was supposed to pick them up.

Natasha barely had to shout a warning before a fourth black van erupted from a side street and hit the flank of their car at full speed.

 

**Hogwarts**

 

Yasha could hear flies in the office. Professor Snape eyed him, then Malfoy, then overviewed quickly the rest –Perl, Granger, Crabbe and Goyle. Then his sharp eyes returned on the first two. A disappointed frown grew on his face.

“I have been the head of Slytherin House for years,” he started, his voice icy, but not downright angry yet. “And this is the first time I ever had to deal with this situation.”

After the first hit, Crabbe and Goyle had rushed to defend their leader. Perl had joined the party by jumping on Goyle. Yasha had finished Crabbe but hadn’t ducked a nose-bleeding and enraged Malfoy fast enough. The two boys had landed on the ground, Yasha quickly overpowering the blond thanks to Natasha’s teachings and given another few well-placed punches. Granger had cast the body-binding jinx on Crabbe and then Goyle to prevent them from doing further harm. Malfoy had kept blinking in shock. Perl had kept grinning in spite of his black eye and the bleeding cut on his lower lip. Yasha had deplored the tear Malfoy had done to his uniform by grabbing him in his fall.

And that was how Snape found them on his way to his office, Hermione fussing over a beaming Perl and Yasha glaring at the three other Slytherins with his arms crossed.

“Slytherins don’t fight against each other,” the professor went on slowly, glaring pointedly at Malfoy. “They don’t come down to fists after an argument.”

“But professor-” Granger started speaking.

“That was Gryffindorish behavior, and nothing I would expect from the Slytherin students.” He grimaced, as though the next words cost him greatly: “Ten points from Slytherin and ten from Gryffindor for fighting in corridors like mindless beasts.”

Granger paled at the loss of points and Perl winced –although whether it was from the loss of points or his fended lip remained unknown. Malfoy and his goons looked too shocked to even speak. Yasha didn’t care.

“But sir-” Malfoy started.

“Out, everyone,” Snape ordered. “Not you Romanov, stay back.”

The other students slowly headed out of the office, Granger and Perl sending him worried glances. Yasha waved them to move on and faced the professor calmly. The man waited until the door was closed to begin:

“You, Mister Romanov, are a nuisance.Your arrogance and pride had already caused mayhem among students. You cannot seem to stand anyone’s company aside from your two…occasional companions. Your magical prowess is close to none. And yet,” Snape’s tone became curious in turn. “You managed to create a crack in one of Hogwarts’ walls and protected yourself with a magical shield, even unconscious. One of the two companions you tolerate descends from a minor, yet one of our oldest pureblood families; and the other is a very arrogant albeit smart muggleborn who can’t find her place among her peers.”

“Your point, sir?” Yasha interrupted curtly. He was starting to get hungry.

“I have been watching you closely. I believe you are concealing your full abilities from us, but I cannot fathom why.”

“What, does Dumbledore think I am a wildcard?” Yasha snorted in disbelief.

“The headmaster has his own business to mind. This conversation comes from my own observations and will remain as such. And I noticed you have a natural penchant for a particular branch of dark magic even though I do not know if you truly realize it,” Snape went on. “We call it the Dark Arts, and very few wizards can detect it. Do you know what Dark Arts are, Mr. Romanov?”

“They are related to dark magic?”

“The best example I have for a Dark Art user is Helmish Marohon. He left his mark in muggle history under the legend of the Pied Piper of Hamelin.” Snape paused. Yasha briefly thought of Master Pietor and his violin. “Do you know the story?”

Yasha pretended to think. Of course he knew the story, but he was growing uncomfortable with Snape’s questions.

“Some flute player hypnotized rats out of a village and when villagers refused to pay for his services, he enchanted their children. Or something like that?”

“Crude version of the story, but mostly accurate. Marohon was a wizard who perfected his use of Dark Arts on muggles. You have to understand, Dark Art is the most archaic mean to manipulate magic, and at the same time the most powerful one. A Dark Art master never uses a wand, but other tools, more…subtle to manipulate. Marohon’s favorite was a flute. And he managed to enchant the entire underage population of a full village within minutes.” Pause. His eyes narrowed: “I heard you practiced the violin.”

Yasha cocked his head on the side.

“And so?”

“Dark Arts aren’t necessarily evil, but do beware of their power.” The potion master paused to emphasize his words: “There _is_ a _reason_ why that kind of magic was abandoned to be replaced by much simpler means. Dark Arts always demand a sacrifice from their owner.”

“If I ever cross on a Dark Art user, I’ll remember it,” Yasha said flippantly. “May I leave now?”

Snape managed to bite back a sigh.

“I owed James Potter a debt,and I had promised myself to keep watch on his son if he ever came into trouble.” He added and Yasha glared at the teacher. “Unfortunately, I fear I am far too late now. You are dismissed, Mr. Romanov. I won’t tolerate another misdemeanor from you. Are we clear?”

“Crystal, sir,” Yasha replied icily. So the potion master believed he had understood everything? He thought he knew the whole story? The man knew _nothing_.

The boy stood up and left the office. His decision was made; first he would take care of Pettigrew, then he would leave Hogwarts once and for all.

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here goes the next chapter...I know, I'm really long updating this, sorry ^^"  
> Read and enjoy!

**My Name Is Yasha Romanoff**

**14**

 

_Jack watched Romanov enter the room looking furious and anxious at the same time. He glanced at the boy’s hands and pants, noted a trail of saliva over his kneecap and short black hairs lingering, and deduced his earlier assumption had been correct. Aunt Maria was not only correct when she told him Sirius Black could change into a dog. While he knew the suspicions was far-fetched, his instincts kept whispering that black dog he had spotted behind the Slytherin earlier that day was the escapee, and Yakov Romanov was also in contact with him._

_“No trouble finding the classroom?” he asked nonchalantly, ignoring the younger boy’s glare._

_“Not at all,” Romanov hissed between his teeth. “Let’s get over with this. Why am I here, Hill?”_

_Jack pulled out his wand and watched with interest as the Slytherin followed his every move. Or more precisely, he watched how the boy’s hands reacted. His fingers were twisting, not in the urge to grab a wand, but rather the same way his father’s bodyguard did when facing a threat. The Hufflepuff hid an inward smirk: so that was why Romanov was so bad in class; he was a wandless user. That explained some things._

_“You suck in spell casting,” Jack announced with a shrug. “Thankfully, in my family, we have tricks to adapt. Take out your wand.”_

_The Slytherin hesitated a moment, but obeyed eventually. Jack moved to stand right next to him and pointed his wand towards a desk._

_“You did the levitation spell, correct?” at the boy’s nod, he ordered: “Show me.”_

_Romanov casted the Wingarduim Leviosa. The desk moved, but barely. Jack had his eyes fixed on the boy’s hand. Too tensed around the handle, too rigid posture and too loose fingers. The Hufflepuff made a show of pointing his wand to the desk in turn._

_“Watch how my hand moves and do it after me.” He ordered. Romanov stared dubiously but obliged. “Twist your wrist a bit more,” Jack corrected. Romanov obeyed again. “You’re holding a stick of wood, not a snake for God’s sake. It won’t bite if you relax the pressure a bit.” The Slytherin grimaced but relaxed his grip. “Now do it.”_

_“WingariumLeviosa”, he whispered. The desk obediently lifted and descended._

_“Wandless people can’t hold their wands in the traditional way,” he explained, ignoring the look of shock on the younger boy’s face. “Oh come on; anyone with decent sensor training can feel magic floating over you like a blanket. And you have longtime practice with a particular kind of violin. It’s child’s play to figure out you’d be more proficient at wandless.” A smirk grew over his face. “And doesn’t it take one to know one?”_

_“Sensor and wandless? You are good at hiding abilities of your own,” Romanov remarked with a suspicious stare._

_“My aunt belongs to…well, same as your mother. And the main branch of my family is a big fan of particularly rare artifacts.”He paused and eyed him seriously. “Mind if I check your violin one of these days?”_

_The violin was magical, that he was sure of. This was why he had asked for Romanov to come tonight. Unfortunately, the boy suddenly seemed to understand that and narrowed his eyes at him._

_“We’ll see,” he replied dryly. “Thank you for the help; I think we’re done here.”_

“Hey Jack!” The teenager raised his head and realized he had been drifting in the middle of a conversation between his friends. Surrounding him, six Hufflepuffs were staring at him with amused faces at various degrees. He was one of the youngest among the group, most being in fourth or fifth year, but he had always fitted with older crowds. The one who had been speaking was Cedric Diggory, another third year.

“You’ve got lost in your thoughts again?” the boy said.

Jack stared with a blank expression and asked the customary:

“Oh, sorry. What did I miss?”

His friends chuckled; he would often space out for a reason or another, and they were used to it now. Cedric answered for the rest:

“We were thinking of flying before the Quidditch team came to practice. I can get authorization from Sprout to use brooms out of the field.”

Jack smirked.

“Diggory, you little ‘ _rebel’_ ,” he said teasingly. “And after the Romanov’s stunt, you believe she will let you?”

Cedric rolled his eyes.

“We can try. And Sprout knows we won’t do anything stupid.”

“Sure she won’t. Don’t tell me Grant isn’t planning on a road trip over the Forbidden Forest?” Jack teased, glancing sideways at a small redhead boy. “Bet that’s your wet dream, getting lost among the trees and the beasts…”

“Shut up Wally.” Said Grant retorted, making a face. Jack just smiled.

He never understood why he had been sorted into Hufflepuff. It wasn’t that he disliked his house; he had been integrated easily even if he hung out with older students from the start and true to the house’s spirit, he had found reliable allies. But given his background, he thought he would have ended in Gryffindor or Slytherin. Hufflepuff seemed too…nice, for him. And the first few months had confirmed his thoughts. Students didn’t look for trouble, behaved well most of the time and were friendly, not seeing alliances or talking pureblood theories. There were a couple of exceptions of course like any other houses, but nothing he found threatening. At first, he had thought his house boring.

Until he had realized Hufflepuff also meant…he was invisible. No-one paid attention to students of his House. Gryffindor meant loud and out for trouble, Slytherin relied too much on lineage and backstabbing and as for Ravenclaw…he could have been sorted there, he supposed, but his sense of loyalty must have won over his thirst for knowledge. He wasn’t a lazy student by all means; he could work hard if he wanted to and had reasonable grades. He wasn’t antisocial either –he belonged to Cedric Diggory’s, Hufflepuff’s top student, inner circle of friends. But he kept to himself and others respected his need for solitude. ‘Wally’ had been his nickname ever since a muggleborn friend had explained the game to them.

But he had truly become grateful for his House when at the beginning of his third year his favorite aunt gave him an actual task to accomplish. She needed eyes inside the castle, and who better than a thirteen year old Hufflepuff whose ambition was to join SHIELD in the long run for the job? Maria had always been, much to his father’s exasperation, his role model. And he would not disappoint.

Another Hufflepuff approached the group –Nymphadora Tonks, related to the Black family but loyalty towards her uncle yet to be determined, seventh year, Metamorphmagus, good contact to keep –and tapped his shoulder:

“Hey Hill? There’s a first-year Slytherin waiting for you outside in the corridor. Pretty girl too.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. He knew exactly who that would be. He stood up, apologizing for leaving to his friends and thanking Tonks for her warning, and left for the entrance. His eyeinside the Slytherin house was pacing in the corridor which immediately alarmed him; he had never seen his cousin lose her temper before.

“What are you doing-” he started, and was immediately hushed by a nervous rant.

“He’s vanished!” she hissed, shoving a blinking red sphere in his hand. “It’s been like that for half an hour.”

The Tracer was one of his family’s rare artifacts, an object that could spot anyone he’d decided to track. One hair was enough to get a visual of that person’s surrounding, a blood drop could even make the sphere’s user see through the target’s eyes. Only five models remained in the world, most having been destroyed because of its capabilities. His family owned three and was trained to use them.

Jack felt a cold dread growing inside; blinking red was never a good sign.

“Thank you,” he said and grabbed the sphere. He closed his eyes and breathed in sharply. _Show me_ , he ordered. The Tracer sent various foggy visions on the boy’s surroundings. Stone walls, high ceilings, no decorations, no furniture either. Much to his annoyance, Jack didn’t recognize the site. _Well then_ , he thought, pocketing the Tracer, _time to use the system D_.

 

**Hogwarts**

 

Yasha opened his eyes with a dull arching spot in the head. He winced as he attempted to open his eyes –the light, although dimed, felt too strong for his eyes. And when his eyes adjusted…

_Damn it._

He was met with the sight of a stone ceiling way lower than usual and a cooler temperature that use to be in the castle. He wasn’t on the top floors anymore, but in the dungeons. No, he corrected himself, sensing the deep humidity of the place, even _lower_ than the dungeons.His body was uncomfortably restrained and when he tried to shift position, he realized he was tied up by some ropes.

His last memory concerned stepping out of Snape’s office and joining his friends. Then they had been heading for a place to talk without being interrupted and Perl had suggested the corridor on the third level. No-one was allowed there and Flinch had been busy cleaning up the Weasley twins’ latest prank. Yasha had agreed and then…He had turned around because he had spotted a rat running down the hall, had followed it for a while up. He could clearly remember the walk up the stairs, entering the hallway…and then nothing. How did he end up here?

“How nice for you to wake up Mr Romanov.”

_Shit_.

Yasha’s attention snapped back to reality. He hadn’t taken the time to glance at the rest of the room but in his defense, this was the first time he had ever been kidnapped. It took some effort to move around and sit up. His head spun with the effort and he truly hoped he hadn’t got a concussion. After a few seconds, the time it took for his vision to return to normal, he looked right to left. One man was standing in the room, not too far from them but far enough to be out of reach. And it was none other than Professor Quirrell and his goddamn turban smelling like onions, with a glint of triumph in his eyes. Yasha winced, not liking that expression one bit.

_Shitshitshit…_

“Yakov Romanov,” the teacher started, drawing his voice low in suspense. “Or should I say _Harry Potter_!”

 

**Budapest**

 

Smoke was stinging Natasha’seyes and her body hurt. Her ears rang soundly and the smell of burning harassed her senses into a frenzy. It took her far longer than she’d like to realize someone was helping her walk away from the commotion. It took her a few extra seconds to realize it was Barton.

“Awake already?” she heard him hiss in her ear. “You were hit worse than I.”

Her first thought was that it was a good thing in the long run; she could heal faster thanks to the Red Room serum. Her second thought was how come Barton was in current better shape than her since she was pretty sure the most of the impact had gone towards the back seat. Or had it?

Her thoughts were interrupted when they stumbled through a door and into a building. Barton maneuvered her to sit back against the wall and crouched next to her, surveying her injuries.

“You look like shit,” he commented.

Natasha forced herself to focus and glanced in his direction. His face had few cuts –due to the glass from the car she assumed –but otherwise his skin remained mostly untouched. His dark uniform must have made a few heads turn in curiosity, but in the night, no-one would have noticed the details.

“I was thrown out the back window during the impact,” he explained, probably catching her interrogative glance. “Got lucky. So did you. There was a thick smoke curtain around the scene. It seems that even your Red Room buddies won’t risk shooting at each other. Good thing you didn’t hook your seatbelt too. I was afraid I couldn’t get you out for a moment.”

“Where…” she started, only to be interrupted by another headache.

“Take it slow,” he chided gently. His eyes darted around the room, looking for something. “We should be safe for a while; I don’t think we were followed.”

“We need to move quickly,” Natasha interrupted sharply. “They’ll expect you to keep your head down.”

“Is that what they taught you?”

The redhead frowned, and slowly nodded. Clint shrugged.

“Then we’re fine. They’ll probably expect me to follow your instructions and move since you’ve been trained by them,” he explained. “Let us rest at least an hour or so; you need to be tended.”

Natasha closed her eyes briefly.

“One hour,” she conceded. “But after that, we’re loose.”

Barton nodded at the compromise.

“Let’s patch you up first.”

 

**Hogwarts**

 

Harry Potter. The guy had just called him Harry Potter. Yasha had a deep urge to hex him and wipe that smug smirk off his face.

“What are you talking about sir? I’m not Harry Potter.”

“Drop the act, Potter, I know everything.” Quirrell hissed and turned around to face a large mirror in the back of the room. Yasha hadn’t noticed it before and craned his neck to get a better view. Antique-looking thing with metal surrounding and a dirty-ish glass…not worth his attention, he decided and scanned the room for an exit instead. There was one door on the opposite side, no windows and a few pillars he could dive behind for protection. They were far though, and if he wanted to be fully operational to confront an enemy, he needed to free his hands.

_“The boy, use the boy,”_ a voice hissed from nowhere, bringing his focus back on the other man.

The ropes binding him fell apart like nothing. Instead of springing into action like he would have normally done, Yasha stood still and glared at the professor. Quirrell wasn’t alone, and if someone else was watching them…he didn’t want to act on impulse without knowing what he was going up against.

“Come here Potter,” he ordered coldly. Yasha reluctantly moved forwards. “No need to look for your wand, it is out of your reach.”

He hadn’t been searching for his wand at all, but Yasha was infinitively grateful he hadn’t revealed that he was more proficient at wandless.

“What I am supposed to do?” Yasha asked, adopting an utterly bored tone.

“Tell me what you see in the mirror.”

He saw himself staring back in confusion. His reflection shrugged in return.

“What am I supposed to see?” he asked, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

“Tell me how I can get it!” Quirrell snapped. His hold on his shoulder was becoming painful.

“Get what?” Yasha snapped in turn. It wasn’t a really smart move, but the man was annoying him.“What are you after? Perfume? You really stink with all these onions in your turban.”

Quirrell’s face turned red in fury:

“The philosopher’s stone! What else? I would have believed you smarter than that.”

Yasha snorted.

“How should I know? I’m not stupid enough to run after the school’s secrets, I got better things to do.” A twist of anger showed on Quirrell’s face. “Seeking a spotlight would be more your style. You’re the kind of guy who loves the atten-“

“Enough!” Quirrell barked and pointed his wand at him.

Everything that followed seemed to happen in slow motion. The professor started wording a spell and the tip of his wand glowing. Yasha didn’t waste time and did the only thing he could think of. His right hand sent a silent stunner on the teacher while his left hand cast a wingardiumleviosa. The wandless magic propelled Quirrell’s body harshly against the farthest wall. He didn’t wait to send his teacher against the ceiling with enough force to break his spine.

When the body fell back on the floorwith a loud ‘thump’, Yasha felt the drain of magic backfire. Wandless was tiring, especially when manipulating heavy bodies. He still ran behind the nearest pillar and waited, his breath uneven, hands shaking slightly. Nothing but silence interrupted by pained, irregular breathingreigned in the room for a while.Ten long minutes later, the breathing falteredand quieted for good. Yasha decided to peek out of the corner and check if the adult had passed away or, by some insane magic, had managed to heal himself.

What he saw, he did not expect. A deep growl came from Quirrell’s location; a growl not unlike Natalia’s in the early morning, and a cloud of grey smoke slipped out of the former teacher’s body. The smoke formed a snake-like face and started hissing. Yasha cursed his luck; he couldn’t fight a ghost! Or a spirit or whatever that thing was…

“Finally we meet,” the ghost-thing hissed again. Its pseudo eyes lit in bright red, which Yasha found a bit disturbing. “Do you know who I am?”

Taunting the whatever-it-was sounded like a bad idea, but Yasha did it anyway.

“A ghost thing?”

The growl intensified. Yasha did his best not to look away.

“I am Lord Voldemort.”

Voldemort. His parents’ murderer. Was that the encounter Ollivander had been so impressed about?

“I thought you’d be more…compact, y’know.” Yasha said, slipping a hint of disappointment in his voice. It was a half-lie; Yasha was plenty uneasy, he just had expected to meet the psycho in the flesh. Then again, this was _magic_. His mind briefly remembered a card he had owned once, at the time he had been fan of ‘Magic’. He thought he could do an exceptional pun if he took the time, but Voldemort was far too ignorant of the muggle world to fully appreciate it. Damn, he hated how his mind splattered when he found himself in dangerous situations. Those same thoughts got interrupted when Ghost-Thing-Voldemort hissed again:

“You fought bravely, Harry Potter. Join my side. Get the philosopher’s stone for me, and I will help you get your parents back.”

Yasha blinked at the ghost-like thing in disbelief.

“You do realize you just tried to kill me?” he asked, incredulously. “And that _you_ killed the Potters in the first place? And for your information, I’m not Harry Potter. I already have a mom and as far as I’m concerned, you can go fuck yourself.” He paused, sending the spirit a meaningful stare. “Although… _that_ might be hard in your current state.”

“Not Harry Potter?” the ghost-thing Voldemort repeated, surprise evident on his face. “Impossible.”

Yasha shrugged.

“Sorry, you got the wrong guy. No-one ever told you to never listen to rumors?”

The spirit ignored the question and roared in anger. His ghostly form crossed the room and hit Yasha through the chest. A cool feeling wrapped his body, and for the second time that day, everything went black.

 

**Budapest**

 

The hour line deadline had gone by with no interruption, no threat showing up. Natasha had been decently patched up by Barton and she had more or less taken care of the nasty cut on his head. In the dead of the night, they managed to slip out unnoticed and ‘borrow’ another car.

“You know they will be watching each exit of town?” she remarked as they stopped at a red light.

“Traffic is fluid for now,” Barton pointed out as he checked the roads right and left. “Call Coulson would you?”

As she dialed her phone, she noticed a group of men stumbling around the corner. Their handler picked up at the second ring.

_“Where are you?”_

She kept a firm eye on the small troupe and watched them disappear in a corner. Drunks out for the night, at first glance, but with the Red Room in town, she could never be a hundred percent sure.

“We got held back,” she replied quickly.

_“Communication has been compromised from the start. Tell Hawkeye to stay low.”_

Natasha pursed her lips in annoyance. It was a theory she hadn’t wanted to fathom, but…

“Inside work?” she asked quietly.

_“We will talk later agent_ ,” was his abrupt response. _“Good luck.”_

She cursed and hung up.

“Compromised?” Barton asked. When she nodded, he added: “Destroy the burner; he won’t call on that anymore.”

“What is your procedure?”

“We lie low and wait a few days. The mission isn’t technically over yet and I have a safer safe place we can use for recovering and planning.”

“SHIELD–proof?” she asked sarcastically. The archer gave her a pout.

“I wasn’t always SHIELD you know,” he mumbled. “But no, not SHIELD-proof and good enough for our situation.” He paused and suddenly grin; “You’ll see, there’s even a Jacuzzi.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, still watching the roads carefully. She was stuck in town to finish a stupid mission with an idiot and her former employers in the streets looking for her. The next few days promised to be very long.

 


	15. AN READ PLEASE !!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers,   
> As you might have noticed, it has been embarrassingly long since I’ve published anything concerning this story. My first reason is the lack of time and opportunity (life has been a b*tch lately and I have a bit more to worry about than focus on writing stories). The second reason is much simpler; I completely lack motivation to keep on going with the Marvel-verse. The last movies, while pretty awesome, completely drained any interest I had in that universe (fine, I admit the Clint/Laura pairing completely butchered it with time).   
> Maybe I’ll pick up where I left someday but it won’t be until a really long time, and I am the first to be frustrated at an unfinished fic. The trouble is, I have the plot, I just don’t have the words to put it down.   
> As a compromise, I figured might as well post a draft of what I had intended to write. Many thanks and apologies to those who have commented and kudo-ed this story up till now; I’m sorry I couldn’t go till the end.

**Summary – chapter 15 & forth**

 

Hermione sighed heavily and read her page for the tenth time in a row. Yakov had skipped classes for a full week, due to being stuck in the infirmary. A week during which he had no visitors aside from Madam Pomfrey and the headmaster. Every day, she had gone there only to be denied the access. Perl hadn’t been more successful and according to him, when Professor Snape had gone to visit, he had returned to tell him Yakov’s recovery was mostly slow because he refused to be healed through potions. Something Madam Pomfrey had been fretting about.

It bothered her more than it should. They were in a school, Yakov had been harmed and he refused to comply with the nurse's instructions. Hermione knew he could be a bloody mule sometimes, but this was getting extreme. She was seriously considering sneaking inside and to hell with the consequences when Perl came to find her, eyes wide in excitement.

“C’mon, we can go see Romanov now.”

Hermione hurriedly shut her current book close and followed him out of the library.

“He is allowed visitors?” she asked, hopeful.

The Slytherin winced, suddenly a little uncomfortable:

“Not really but I have a way in. And we need to go now.”

Hermione decided she didn't want to know, at least not yet. They hurried down the corridors, walking determinedly, trying not to catch the attention of the other students. Ever since Yakov had been stuck in the hospital, rumors about his true identity had been running wild and she and Perl had been asked many times if their asocial friend was the Boy-Who-Lived. Thanks to the map, Hermione knew the truth. But she had learned her lesson with his escapade with the centaurs; she had kept quiet about it. Even though she wished she could confide to Perl, she wouldn’t until Yakov gave his consent.

They were two corridors away from the infirmary when the third year Hufflepuff Yakov seemed to know suddenly appeared. Perl looked relieved.

“I don't think we were followed,” Perl whispered, as if they were plotting some dangerous infiltration. In a way, Hermione thought they were. She suddenly wondered if Yakov hadn't caught a disease of some sort and was actually contagious. The headmaster had forbidden any kind of visit...perhaps there was a good reason for that?

She felt a hand land on her shoulder and nearly jumped, startled. The Hufflepuff was staring at her with compassion -and a little patronizing.

“He's injured, not sick, Granger. Don't let the spell get to you.”

“The spell?” Hermione repeated, a little dazed.

“Basic repulsive spell,” Perl explained. “Someone doesn't want Yakov to have company. It took me three days to realize why I couldn't make up my mind and knock at the door. Thanks Merlin Hill knows how to counter those.”

“It's a matter of practice,” the Hufflepuff replied, vaguely annoyed. “Nothing to brag about. No-one's there for the moment; shall we go in?”

Hermione nodded impatiently.

_They meet with Jack Hill who smuggles them inside after distracting Pomfresh._

“What the-”

If Hermione was to use a muggle expression to describe his state, she’d say he ‘looked like shit’. He had deep purple circles underneath his eyes from probably lack of sleep, his skin pale but not sickly white and he moved slowly, but in overall he didn’t sound out of it. On the contrary, his eyes seemed sharp as always. And he seemed relieved to see them all, even though he did glare a little at Hill.

“What are you doing here?” he hissed, narrowing his eyes. Hermione decided to intervene:

“You aren’t allowed visitors, but he showed us a way in.” Yakov’s glare lessened, but barely.

“I’m good at sneaking around Hogwarts,” Hill confirmed smugly. “No need to thank me by the way.”

“Aren’t you going to get in trouble?”

“You are in far worst trouble than I am. Your dirty little secret was thrown in the open air.”

“What dirty little secret?” Yakov asked, his voice deadly quiet.

“Are you really _him_?” Perl asked with wide eyes. “It’s the mild rumor going around in the castle right now.” Yakov directed his eyes back at her.

“You didn’t tell him?”

“You told me to keep it a secret,” Hermione replied, vexed. Perl had that mildly upset expression at leaning that she had hidden something from him. What did surprise her was Hill’s amused smirk. The Hufflepuff seemed to know a lot more on Yakov that the Slytherin was ever willing to offer on his own.

“Do you need us to smuggle you out?” the older teenager offered. “Knowing your mother, you must keep a go-bag somewhere in your dorm.” Yasha narrowed his eyes at him. Hill shrugged. “Chill man, I have one too. Part of the family is in the same sort of business. So?”

“Go-bag?” repeated Perl in curiosity.

“Clothes and accessories for emergency leave,” Hermione explained before frowning at them both. “Why, are your parents in a dangerous job?”

“Peculiar kind, that’s all,” Yasha interrupted before Hill could speak. “Just…Perl, it’s a grey backpack in my trunk. Would you mind getting it for me? I think the headmaster did something to keep me in here.” Another thought crossed his mind and he cursed himself for not thinking of it earlier. “Where’s my violin?”

Hill laughed heartily.

“That old bat really did a number on you.” The Hufflepuff plunged his hand in his pocket and pulled out a dirty Slytherin coat. Hermione wondered if he had used an enlarging charm and made a mental note to ask him later. “I managed to get to you before the headmaster did. Figured you’d put everything in there so I just grabbed your coat before flying out.”

“Oh really? And how _did_ you find me?”

Hill’s grin widened.

“That would be spoiling the fun; although I will admit a lot of guesswork was at play. Well, that, and the habit of keeping my ears and eyes open. You heard about the philosopher’s stone by now?”

“Something Quirrell was after,” agreed Yakov but didn’t lose tract. “How did you get to Quirrell before Dumbledore?”

“Tracking charm,” he replied with a wide grin before sobering. “I arrived just in time to see to see that smoky thing escape. Seems like rumors were right, old Voldie isn’t quite dead.”

Hermione stared at the two as they kept talking of things she didn’t understand. The philosopher’s stone? Professor Quirrel? Voldie?

“Long story short, Voldemort is still alive,” Hill intervened, most likely catching the puzzled expression on her face. “And the Boy-Who-Lived is more interested in playing the violin than in magic. A _scandalizing_ notion for any wizard in Britain.”

“Are you allowed to even leave?” Perl wondered out loud. “I mean, some contract could make you lose your magic or something…”

“If I lose my magic, I can’t care less,” Yakov retorted hotly. “I’ve done well enough without it and sometimes would have been _better_ without it anyway. Not to mention that would hinder the Headass’s plans for me, whatever they are.”

“So you are leaving?”

Yakov looked torn for a moment. Hill cleared his throat to get his attention:

“Staying here won’t help you in the long run. Whatever you need to accomplish here, can you leave it to me? I don’t care being expelled that much, my father might leave England next year.”

The Slytherin grimaced and remained silent for a while. He finally came out with a decision and stared at his Gryffindor friend.

“Actually, Hermione would be more fitted, if she agrees.”

All stares turned towards her. Hermione blinked.

“Me?” she asked, surprised.

“It might be dangerous and put you at odds with the rest of the Gryffindors if you fail,” he started. “If you succeed you might even not have recognition.” Yakov’s tone softened. “You don’t need to do it if you feel uncomfortable. I can take care of it.”

Hill looked a whole lot more interested now.

_Yasha explains his suspicions about Pettigrew being Ron’s rat and Hermione agrees to help and report to Jack, who is older and has more contacts to deal with the matter. Hermione and Perl leave –Hermione returns to the library so no-one will suspect her absence and Perl goes to fetch Yasha’s go-bag. Since they are alone Jack admits he gave a tracker considered as a Dark object to his cousin Daphne Greengrass so she could keep an eye on him in his stead. The ‘Greengrass from the Hill’ comment Yasha makes in earlier chapters is a sort of insult in the sense the Hill family is a lower branch of the Greengrass. Yasha ponders on how much Jack is aware of his situation before asking straight._

“I suppose your aunt told you everything?” he asked flatly. Jack raised an eyebrow.

“Depends on what you mean by ‘everything’.”

“I dunno, stuff like where I come from? Who raised me?”

“Oh, _that_ kind of stuff.” Jack shrugged like he couldn’t give a care. “She mentioned it.”

Yasha inhaled deeply.

“Then you will understand that no-one ever learns the truth. Perl and Hermione –and you - knowing already is enough.”

“Whatever makes you happy,” the teenager replied. “I’m not Great-Britain’s top celebrity. I’m not even fully British.”

Yasha rolled his eyes.

“Oh shut up.”

Jack smirked and asked:

“So, what now? Do I inherit something from your departure?”

“Inherit?”

“You announce you’re leaving Hogwarts. Then you sent Hermione and Perl on their way so we could have some time alone. What do you want with me?”

“If you promise to keep an eye out for Hermione and Perl, I will leave you with this.”

He inhaled deeply and laid the Marauders’ Map on the table. Jack’s brows furrowed.

“A blank parchment?”

“It’s the key to the Weasley twin’s success. With the correct password, you unlock a complete plan of Hogwarts and can see whoever walks in the corridor.”

“Why would I be interested?”

“You have a nasty habit of following people of interest around. This might help you keep track of them without you leaving your tree.”

To reinforce his selling argument, Yasha brushed the paper with his fingertips and whispered the words too lowly to be heard. The properties of the map immediately appeared and Jack looked appealed.

“That’s an interesting bargain. What makes you think I will hold onto my word?”

Yasha snorted.

“In spite of being a total sneak, I believe you hold onto your word. That’s why you ended with the Puffs.”

“Perlancott and Granger are good kids; don’t worry I’ll look after them.”

 

**Budapest**

 

_Natasha and Clint get caught in a crossfire. Clint decides to distract their pursuers to give Natasha a chance to escape._

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she snapped. Barton grinned, checking his gun and settling in a high angle.

“You’ve got a son waiting back home. Go, I’ll hold them back.”

“Oh you are not pulling the self-sacrificing card on me.” She growled and pulled him up. She threw his unwounded arm around her shoulders and dragged him along her. “Willing or not we’re getting out of this hellhole together. Yasha will never forgive me if I abandoned someone behind.”

_After a few minutes combat, he is knocked out_

Clint heard the beeping machines first. Then came the pain through his whole body.

Natasha was by his side, staring patiently at him.

“You’re here in your uniform; this must be hell,” he muttered.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Oh? Why’s that?” her tone in between hurt and annoyed.

“You’d be waiting for me in a bikini if I was in heaven.”

She raised both eyebrows. Clint winced.

“Don’t –I –I hate drugs. They make me delirious. Don’t have a filter when…” he waved pitifully.

“You are an idiot.”

“Everyone says so.”

“You could have died.”

“I’m aware.”

“Why?”

“I told you. You have a boy waiting for you to come home. I got nothing.”

Her glare intensified

“Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

“Yes ma’am.” He paused. “Thank you for saving my ass.”

 

**Hogwarts**

 

Dumbledore remembers his discussion with Yakov in a flashback.

_“Where are Perl and Granger?” he demanded._

_“Your friends and fine and worried about you,” Dumbledore said soothingly. “I must ask, what happened down there?”_

_“Quirrell attacked me. I fought back.” Pause. “I think he cracked his skull against a pillar, I’m not sure.”_

_“You used magic without your wand?” Dumbledore asked with an odd expression on his face._

_“Adrenaline makes you do crazy things I suppose,” Romanov replied briskly, glaring at him but carefully avoiding his eyes. Dumbledore wondered whether he was trying to avoid Leginimens. “Are you an investigator? I thought the police would come swarming in. There has been an investigation opened, right?”_

_The headmaster smiled grandfatherly._

_“I thought you would like to avoid being harassed for details.”_

_“I guess it would be bad publicity to advertise that one of your teachers was possessed by Voldemort and you didn’t lift a finger. But whatever, I’m not a headmaster.” Dumbledore shifted uneasily. He hadn’t been comfortable letting Quirrel run around freely, but he had Serverus to keep an eye on him and this was for the greater good. “What do you want from me?”_

_The old man’s expression became solemn; now was the time to be honest and laid some cards. The boy was going no-where for the next few days._

_“I think it’s highly time that you admit the truth, Harry.”_

_The boy raised an annoyed eyebrow._

_“You must be even more senile that I thought. My name’s Yakov. Not Harry. I’m not your dead friends’ son. Get over it.”_

_“Harry…” Dumbledore started with a patronizing tone. “I believe you haven’t been told about your inheritance. Why professor Quirell tried to kill you.”_

_Romanov bit back a groan and muttered an irritated: “God Almighty, spare me the sob story.” Dumbledore ignored him and went on gently:_

_“You are a stolen child, Harry. After your parents’ death, you were taken away by a man named Sirius Black, a man working for their murderer. You were separated from your community and given to someone. Many people have searched for you unsuccessfully. You were naturally called to join Hogwarts-“_

_“As Yakov Romanov,” he pointed out irrelatively. Dumbledore ignored him; he still hadn’t uncovered that mystery, but he would eventually find out what had happened for the name change._

_“You are Harry Potter,” the headmaster went on._

_“Are you telling me that a madman captured me to retrieve a priceless stone you have hidden in a school full of children because you decided I was going to be the Savior of the British wizard community?” his tone was low and dangerous, and even Dumbledore seemed slightly taken aback._

_“I haven’t decided of anything, Harry.”_

_“Get out.”_

_“Har-“_

_“I believe I’ve been patient enough. Call me ‘Harry’ once more, and I swear I will stab you in the eye with that fork,” he threatened, pointing at the cutlery on the night desk._

_The headmaster nodded, conscious he wouldn’t win the boy over in one day. With patience though, he was convinced he would understand._

_“Take the time you need.”_

That had happened three days ago. Christmas Holidays was still a long time ahead. He had time to get Harry under control and make him accept his identity. Perhaps he could convince him to stay during the holidays and work him then. But when he entered the infirmary, he had the displeasure of facing an empty bed. Pomfresh didn’t look surprised.

“Really Dumbledore, he was fine, he had no reason to stay longer.”

“But he was not supposed to-“

“He asked me if he was in his full capacities to go to class, and I said yes. He showed no sign of physical discomfort, or even pain. He was well-rested. I had no viable reason to keep him lying in his bed. In fact,” she added with a frown. “He suggested himself he should exercise before rotting on spot. And I cannot say I blame him for wanting to leave.”

“He was hit by a dark spell,” Dumbledore supplied, although he knew what the answer would be. Indeed, if Harry showed no signs of illness, he had no reason to stay longer than necessary in bed. Mrs Pomfresh shook her head.

“I won’t keep a student here against his will, Albus. Even on your orders.”

“Are you insinuating something?”

The nurse sighed.

“I am not an idiot, I know what you are trying to do. You mean the best, but I believe I am still allowed to disagree with you.”

The headmaster left then, dismayed by his employee’s lack of trust. Had he remained longer, he would have noted her relieved look, the bag she picked up and her heading to the nearest window. He would have seen her summon a broom from said bag, jump on it and fly away without looking back. And he would have seen the real Mrs Pomfresh blink awake in the back of her office wondering how long she had been sleeping.

 

**Private Drive**

 

_Yasha goes to visit Petunia Dursley to get more acquainted with his biological mother’s family, also because no-one would look for him there. The meeting goes as well as expected; Petunia allows him to make a phone call to SHIELD (Jack gave him a number) so they can pick him up. On the way out, she reluctantly wishes him well. Yasha returns her wishes and promises to never try to contact her or her family again. He embarks on Quinjet and reunites with Natasha who introduces him to Clint and Hill. Yasha comments Jack is an ass. Maria Hill retorts it’s a family trait._

**Train Station Christmas Time**

_Natasha is sent to get Sirius. News of Pettigrew being caught has been released so he is technically a free man, but Sirius won’t show up yet. Natasha and Hill offer to supervise his trial and he asks to speak to Natasha alone._

“Why are you doing this for me?”

“I’m doing this for Yakov. His godfather is a good man, he deserves to meet him properly.” She paused. “But there will be a…compensation demanded.”

“Oh goodie,” he groaned. Of _course_ there was.

“If you are cleared, SHIELD, the organization I work for, will want to recruit you.” She paused. “Take on their offer. I signed in for Yakov’s protection and my own. Once this is over, you will probably want to start anew.”

“Why would I want to embarrass myself with a job when I will be free and loaded?”

“Why would you want to return to a country who abandoned you?” she shot back. “From what I’ve heard and seen, a lot of people could have stepped up and speak in your favor. And yet, they’ve done nothing. People won’t want you there because seeing you will remind them of their mistake. As for Yasha, he won’t set foot to Hogwarts because he hates it there. He has other plans for the future.”

“Oh really? What’s he going to do? Join your merry troupe?”

A faint, fond smile grew on Natasha’s lips.

“Actually, he wants to be a violinist.”

_Sirius agrees to sign for SHIELD._

 

**Two years later, Natasha and Yasha’s apartment in New York (N &C development)**

 

_Yasha enrolls in a music school in New York. He keeps contact with Hermione, Perl and Jack (who stays in Hogwarts). During the holidays he and Jack meet up and he tells him Neville Longbottom is Dumbledore’s new pet project to replace him (to give the wizarding world hope in case of Voldemort’s return). When he returns to home, he hears odd noises._

Yasha frowned and, with a wave of his hand, thinned the wall so he could see into the room without opening the door. Once he caught sight of the scene, he turned around quickly and darted into the kitchen, cheeks red and hot. Through his thirteen years on earth and eleven-ish spent with his mother, he had never seen her naked and had never wanted to. Now he knew he would never, ever forget the picture of her underneath Barton, legs around his waist, arching her back, hands clenching at the sheets and mouth opened wide in a silent scream while Barton had his face buried in her breast and thrust into her frenetically.

Since when had they become lovers anyway? He certainly would not ask. And he would not stay a second more. Instead, he picked up his phone and dialed Jack’s number. When the Ravenclaw picked up, he blurted:

“Hey, I know I said I’d be busy today, but I really wouldn’t mind hanging out of the house right now.”

Yasha thought himself wise when he asked Jack for a sleepover that night. He really didn’t want to overhear the couple’s enthusiasm in the next door bedroom. Especially since it was his mother. And he was cured from his thirteen-year old curiosity.

“So Clint popped the question?” Jack inquired curiously.

“No idea. I wonder how long it’ll take for SHIELD to build a new pool.”

“You mean how long it’ll take my aunt to start a new pool?”

“That’s what I said.”

_Clint takes Yasha out for coffee one day to talk to him about ‘something important’._

“You’re in love with my mother” Yasha said quietly, all humor gone. Clint didn’t reply, but that alone was enough of an answer. “Does she know?”

“I think so. But I don’t know if she does, she’s smart enough to keep that card close to her chest.” A heavy pause settled and Yasha decided to break it.

“You know, a few years ago I teased mom about you; said you were probably going to propose to her shortly. It wouldn’t be just teasing now, would it?”

“I bought a ring last month.”

That admission must have cost him a lot, so Yasha took upon himself not to gape in shock. In retrospect, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Clint seemed to be the family kind of guy.

”You think she said the ring?”

Clint shrugged helplessly and stared at his drink.

“Would it bother you if, by some miracle, your mother agreed to marry me?”

Yasha reflected over the question, which in a way, didn’t even need an answer. He had thought of it since Natasha had admitted having taken her partner to bed. He liked Clint; the archer was trustworthy and reliable and most importantly, made his mother smile. Could he accept him as a step-father? Hell yeah.

“Fingers crossed she says yes, man.” He replied, tapping his maybe step-dad’s shoulder. “You both deserve it.”

Clint smiled one of his honest-to-God genuine, soft happy smile.

“I hope so too.”

**_Sometime later_ **

“So you freaked out and ran out of the room” Yasha summarized flatly, although the urge to roll on the carpet banging the ground laughing was really tempting. Natasha was pacing in the living room, her legendary coolness completely lost. He was sitting on the couch, hiding his grin behind a large opened book. This was so much better than soap opera.

“He proposed.” Natasha repeated for the umpteenth time.

“I know.” Yasha said patiently. “He asked me if I was okay with it beforehand.” At his mother incredulous stare, he quickly added: “Where is Clint anyway?”

“Out on a mission.” Aha, so Natasha wasn’t the only coward in here. Yasha bet Clint had planned to leave to get over the embarrassment, because he probably had anticipated his mother’s freak out. Not coward, Yasha corrected, wise man in fact. “He asked you for permission?” Yasha nodded. “And you gave it?” Another nod. “Why?”

“I like him. He loves you.” Yasha paused and went for the kill: “And you love him. It’s easy enough.”

“That kind of love is for children” Natasha replied automatically. Yasha noted the fact she was trying to convince herself.

“But you love him nonetheless and it’s scaring you shitless. Why don’t you make everyone happy –including yourself –and just say ‘yes’?”

“You think so?” her voice was still unsteady and uncertain.

“The choice is still up to you mom. I’m not the one who’s gonna live with that eternal teenager.”

The soft smile that had been on Clint’s face the very morning appeared.

“I’ll tell him when he returns.”

 

**2 years later, Yasha is 15.**

 

_Time passes. Yasha is stressed by upcoming exams. Dumbledore comes to visit to warn him about Voldemort resurrected after kidnapping and killing Neville and Peter Pettigrew on the loose. Yasha mocks the efficiency of the magical government. On a walk outside, he is attacked by invisible aggressor, who turns out to be Pettigrew. Yasha brings him to a secluded place, wards everything around him and wakes him up. Yasha thinks of using his violin on him as a test subject to practice the secret arts his old master told him about._

“Are you the one who betrayed my parents?” Yasha asked coldly. Peter squeaked and glanced right and left, searching for an escape. The teenager glared and the closest furniture moved to block the only exit his rat form could have allowed him to take.

“He wouldn’t have killed me. James would have spared m-“

A golden light irrupted from nowhere and stunned the small man.

“Listen to me closely, scum” the boy whispered and leaned forwards. “I was raised by the world’s best spy and assassin. I watched her kill for me and I already killed for her. And guess what?” he settled the instrument on his shoulder and tested the cords. “I won’t kill you. But by the time I’m done with you, you will wish you were dead.”

Now he would be able to test the extent of his violin associated with his powers without being bothered with a subject no-one will regret loosing. Mental manipulation with that violin was incredible. Each note and pitch would send Peter into obeying his any wish, not unlike the Impermendia. The rat would roll, jump, kick and the faster the rhythm, the faster the move.

It also turned out to be the most terrifying thing he had ever witnessed. As a consequence of that mental control, the man’s body had started to fail him; nose bleed, tears, coughing and broken bones had followed and Yasha had known then that he would be sent straight to Hell. The moment the bow had left the violin’s strings, Peter had crumbled upon himself, whimpering and whining, in a puddle of blood and broken parts. The sight had horrified him, and he had fled the house and puked behind a wall, disgusted with himself.

As Yasha watched a couple Aurors retrieve Peter, he swore to himself he would never, ever repeat this under any circumstances. His violin was not meant to cause harm and even though the traitor deserved every bit, Yasha regretted he had tainted the instrument he held so dear. The wood had darkened even slightly, the strings reddened and magic, dark magic was slowly elevating. The violin’s essence was slowly shifting into a darker artifact, something no sane person would ever want to deal with.

He shrunk the violin to a needle’s size and, with trembling hands, enclosed it in his necklace. No-one could know what happened tonight. He would bury the secret of his dark moment with that locker and carry its weight wherever he went. Natalia spoke of red in her ledger. Now he had his own.

_Yasha acts troubled for some time before Clint confronts him._

“I –I did something terrible.”

Clint looked up from his bow and glanced at Yasha. The boy was deadly pale and his hands shaking slightly, and his eyes wide in fear. The archer invited him to sit across him with a nod and waited.

“You remember that my parents were killed by a mass murderer, right?” Clint nodded. “They were betrayed first, by a man named Peter Pettigrew. They thought he was dead, but in fact when Voldemort fell, he transformed into a rat and lived that way for years.” Yasha’s voice tuned down. “I found him last night.”

Again the archer stood silent, waiting, his gaze holding no judgment. Yasha took a deep breath and went on:

“I found out a while ago that I could use magic with my violin. Mater Pietro, my mentor, was a descendent of the Pied Piper of Hamelin. Do you know the story?” Clint nodded. “His family was specialized in magical instruments and he gave me a violin before he left, as a parting gift. The violin has no dark or white magic in it, but it obeys to whoever holds it.” Understanding was starting to dawn in Clint’s eyes. “I tested it on Pettigrew and…”

Yasha turned pale white and reached for the garbage can. He emptied his stomach again and when he came back, breathing heavily, Clint was standing by his side, rubbing a hand over his back.

“It nearly killed him,” Yasha babbled. “He was bleeding from everywhere, he was screaming, he was…” another hiccup. “And I couldn’t stop. I wanted him to suffer. I wanted…” his voice trailed off and he shut his eyes closed. “I cleaned up the scene before I left, erased every trace of my passage and obliviated Pettigrew. But I’ll never forget…his face was so…”

His whole body shuddered and he whimpered, wrapping his arms around his legs.

“I was stupid to believe I could be in control.”

“Why tell me?”

Yasha sent him a pathetic glance.

“I can’t tell mom. She did everything to keep me from becoming a murderer. I can’t tell her she failed twice.”

“If you’re talking about Quirell –“

“No, not Quirell. Before him.” He swallowed heavily. “Red Room operatives, eight years ago. She believed Master Pietor took care of them and I was just very upset she had nearly died. Truth is…I killed them. I was nine and I knew what I was doing.”

“Tell me about it.”

So Yasha told him everything.

_When Yasha is younger and believes Natasha died by two former Red Room operatives’ hands, he kills them using offensive magic. He is stopped by his old mentor Master Pietor, who gives him his violin in attempt to soothe his anger. Natasha is revived; the serum saves her._

“What are you two plotting?” Natasha asked with an intrigued smile. Yasha grinned sheepishly and Clint shrugged.

“Male bonding,” the archer replied easily. “Little man here had a few questions a woman can’t answer.”

The redhead raised an eyebrow at Yasha. The teen flushed red.

“Shut up!” he glared at Clint. “Or I will tattle-tale about that time with the frog-“

“Which was totally untrue!” Clint protested. “Who is telling lies now?”

“Boys!” Natasha interrupted, clapping her hands in exasperation. “Downtime.”

 

**Somewhere on US soil**

 

_Sirius and Natasha are sent in the field to investigate a 0-8-4._

“So what’s waiting for us?”

“That’s not your first 0-8-4 Black,” Natasha replied dryly, glancing around. “I have no-“

She lowered her voice, her instinct screaming _danger_ , and most importantly _wizards_. And she plunged forwards.

“Duck!” she screamed at Black, who imitated her immediately as red and green flashes of light appeared out of nowhere. The first laser beam brushed Natasha’s hair too close for comfort. She pulled out her gun and shot the first masked figure she spotted. In her estimation, they were five or six. Somehow, she preferred fighting wizards; their spells were unforgiving but at least they had little knowledge of muggle arsenal. She didn’t see the masked man aparate behind her and aim.

_‘Adavra Kadevra!’_

Natasha just had the time to turn around to catch the green flash of light from the corner of the eye and hear Sirius scream before everything went black.

_Clint and Yasha hear about the attack on Natasha and visit the SHIELD hospital. Natasha is still alive, though unconscious, and won’t wake up._

Sirius was watching her immobile body, guilty and ashamed.

“It was an ambush. Death Eaters were waiting for us.” He said, his voice raw with guilt and shame. “They were here for her.”

Yasha’s vision blurred.

“What happened?” he asked again. “Why is she-“

“She was hit by an Unforgivable.” The wizard whispered. “The deadliest.”

Yasha’s senses froze in horror.

“They used the AK on her?” Dread and relief and incomprehension swamp through him. “But…but she’s still alive!”

“Maybe it’s the serum?” Clint suggested, hopeful. “Maybe it counteracted the effects of the spell?”

_They argue about possible explanations. Sirius shows a trace left by their attackers: a Death Eater’s mask. Yasha storms out of the room_

“Where are you going?”

“Back to England.” Yasha replied harshly. “That sonovabitch did that to seek me out. Well he got what he wanted.”

Clint observed him a moment, then picked up his bag and followed.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Coming with you.”

“No. I’d rather you stay with mom.”

“If I stay with your mom, I’ll go crazy waiting.” he replied. “And I’m not letting you alone to face that madman.”

“You aren’t magic, Clint. You can’t go there.”

“I’m sure there can be exceptions. In the small roads around Diagon Alley or even goblins, they could sell something that’ll allow me to go through magical barriers.”

“No you don’t get it! I maybe lost my mom, I’m not losing you too!”

Clint held the teenager’s face between his hands.

“I married your mom because I love her. She married me knowing I would take care of her son if anything happened to her.” He started quietly. “And I legally adopted you. Whether you like it or not, I’m your step-father, and I am not letting you out there alone.”

“I won’t be alone,” Yasha replied quietly. “I sent an owl to a few trustful contacts I have overseas.”

Clint smirked, but humorlessly.

“And Natasha would kill me if I let you wander unattended. Sorry Yasha, but you’re going nowhere without me.”

 

**Hogwarts**

 

_Clint and Yasha return to England. Yasha is welcomed as a hero as he returns to Hogwarts, but his one-time encounter with the crowd of the magical population turns sour when he calls them names and blames them for laying their hope at vanquishing a madman on a fifteen year old kid. Clint is amused, Dumbledore less, and Yasha gets to meet Lupin for the first time. Lupin, after some discussion with Clint, realizes who exactly raised Yasha and tells Dumbledore._

_Later that night, Clint walks around the castle walls and notices a couple of students outside. A werewolf emerges from the Forbidden Forest. He jumps from the wall and shoots the werewolf with his arrows to distract it from the students. He gets half bitten but manages to kill the werewolf by slicing its throat with a knife. The teachers finally arrive and carry him back inside the castle as Voldemort’s army slowly shows up. Yasha is upset to see his stepfather near death and after concerting with Jack, Hermione and Perl, decides to create a massive bloodbath to end everything._

“I never thanked you, for keeping my secrets.” he whispered guiltily. Clint didn’t respond, his face pale and terrifyingly still. “And I’m sorry, but I have to use it again.”

“Yakov?”

Yasha didn’t look at the werewolf as he stood up and reached for the locket around his neck. He unclasped it and pulled out a miniature violin from it.

“Please keep an eye on Clint, professor Lupin.” He said, returning the instrument to its original size. “I’ll put an end to this.”

_He seeks Professor Snape –the only teacher he trusts, for the next part of his plan._

“I need you to follow my orders without questions.” Yasha said. “If you have the slightest doubt, I might accidentally kill you and I don’t want that to happen.”

“What is your plan?” Dumbledore asked. The teenager shot him a glare.

“You step back and shut up.” he snapped and returned to the potion Master. “I need to perform a spell that will enable me to control your body and soul. Then, I will magically infiltrate your Dark Mark with this one’s power.” He handed out the violin. “And I’ll take the Death Eaters down all at once.”

Snape cautiously took the instrument and stared at him with disbelief.

“How?” was Dumbledore more pressing question..

Yasha turned around and this time, his glower was so hard even McGonagal flinched.

“Get yourself useful and make sure every student and every wizard on your side stay safe inside the castle. I don’t want to kill more people than I have to.”

“Kill? But-“

“This is a war.” Yasha snapped again. “You won’t win if you keep praying for peace. I didn’t return because you asked me. I returned because Voldemort is in a good way of making me an orphan again and I won’t let him hurt me or my family.”

_The plan is the following: Yasha will use Snape’s Mark as a conductor to infect the other Death Eaters. To do so, he needs to use the violin’s Dark nature to infiltrate the mark and make it implode. Snape agrees that an arm’s loss is worth escaping Voldemort’s influence. Yasha starts playing._

The screams were, in contrast, clearly audible. Outside, the mass of Death Eaters were yowling in pain as their body contorted in the oddest positions

“You have to stop him!” Dumbledore said, horrified by the spectacle below his eyes.

But as the headmaster attempted to touch the teenager, Jack stepped in between and pulled his wand at him. The wizards in the room did the same, but focusing on Jack.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Headmaster.” Jack warned, unconcerned by the clear outnumbering. “He’s in the middle of his symphony, and he hates when anyone interrupts him.”

“This is not even killing, this is torture! Even enemies don’t deserve this.”

“You wanted a Savior,” Jack went on, unperturbed. “He wants revenge. Your two goals assemble at some point, but your objectives are different.”

Hermione and Perl joined the former Hufflepuff, back to back, supervising all angles of eventual attack.

“It makes me sick to think of it,” the muggleborn said, her skin pale but her eyes determined. “But it’s a necessary evil.”

“You kinda did worst by denying a trial for Black," Perl added. "And hiding a fare share of information to the outer world. Ginny Weasley nearly died because you failed to mention a Basilick was running free in the dungeons. You let Malfoy believe he was alone and stuck in his situation. And now you expect to have Yasha play by your rules?”

_The ‘battle’ ends when every Dark Mark is gone. Snape’s arm explodes into pieces and he is carried to the infirmary. Yasha doesn’t stop playing and uses the link that Voldemort used to control his followers to backlash it against him. Voldemort dies too from brain implosion._

_Yasha returns to the States under SHIELD care with Clint still unconscious. He and Nat are settled in the same hospital room. Yasha resumes school and prays for their awakening._

 

**The Avengers**

 

_Fury calls Yasha at a school outing in Calcutta and asks him to pay a visit to Banner as he already came across him in the past (flashback: Yasha is playing music for Perl in the outskirts of town, comes face-to-face with the Hulk who seems to enjoy classical music. Hulk runs off when Yasha stops playing). Bruce returns to his house and stumbles on Yasha practicing:_

“I’ve seen you before,” Bruce said cautiously, watching the teenager put the violin back in its case. “You look familiar.”

The black-haired teen shrugged.

“We might have met before. I like playing the violin in isolated places. And your…uh…violent all-raged green side enjoys Mozart a great deal more than a lot people do.”

Bruce tensed, suddenly even more uneasy at the casual display. The stranger wasn’t afraid of him. He knew his other identity, and yet he wasn’t afraid.

“You are far from the top five of my worries, Dr Banner.” He went on, closing the case and turning around to face him. “My name’s Yakov Romanoff. Director Fury sent me.”

“SHIELD, eh?” his tone felt bitter and cold. “Why? What do they want?”

Yasha reached for his pocket.

“We’re facing a global catastrophe”

“I actively try to avoid those.”

“Don’t flatter yourself Doctor, not every catastrophe resolves around the Hulk.”

“Really?” Banner asked sarcastically. Yasha ignored him and slammed a cell phone on the table.

“That’s the Tesseract. Too much science tech wording involved for me but the shortcut is, used the right –or wrong way, it can wipe out the planet.”

“What does Fury want me to do with it, swallow it?”

Yasha rolled his eyes.

“It emits low gamma radiation. You’re the expert, he wants you to find it.”

“And he’s not after the beast?”

“We’re speaking about the guy who runs one of the most powerful underground organizations in the name of peace and justice. If he wanted you killed, he’d kill you and you would never know.”

Banner still looked at him distrustfully. The young man sighed harshly.

“Look, either you follow me to the quinjet that must have arrived half an hour ago somewhere over there, either you vanish in thin air. I killed the madman who’s been trying to kill me since I’m born two months ago after he put my adoptive parents in a coma, letting me deal with the paperwork. Now, I have a spot in an orchestra in Stuttgart in like, three days or so and I still haven’t practiced the piece. Why would you think Fury send me out of all people to try to reason with you? Cause he has no time and I was in the country. And I still need to fly back to New York to practice one last time with my class partner before rushing to Germany.” He bent to pick up his violin and shouldered it. “I’m in a hurry, doctor Banner. Follow me or scam.”

“You are weird,” concluded the man. Yasha shrugged unapologetically.

“Mama might have dropped me as a baby once or twice.”

 

**Stuttgart**

 

_Yasha is playing a small concerto in Stuttgart when Loki arrives to steal the piece he lacks. He boards on the Helicarrier and sneaks in Loki’s cell and interrogates him with his violin’s power. He infiltrates Loki’s mind with Loki’s help (under Thanos’ mind control, Loki uses Yasha’s magic to get rid of the intruding power inside his head). As a thank you for helping him break Thanos’ influence, Loki agrees to check over Natasha and Clint and manages to accelerate Natasha’s awakening._

_What actually held Natasha alive was the last horcrux, originally planted in Yasha’s head. The Goblins didn’t destroy it, they just changed its location from Harry Potter’s forehead to Natasha’s hip (the scar that never heals, and the reason why she can tell if a person is a wizard or not, the scar would tingle. Maria Hill isn’t a witch but a Squib). The combination Red Room serum + Horcrux held the AK spell at bay. Harry’s spell and Voldemort’s death didn’t affect her, as the horcrux was mostly killed off by the AK. Her invulnerability is gone though, she will age normally from now on._

_Clint wakes up simultaneously –instinct of mate protection rouse him (Natasha pained from Loki’s intervention, Clint instinctively reacts). Lupin and Bill arrive for evaluation on dangerousness level: Clint is a little bit infected –stronger reflexes, high senses and red meat craving, but will live relatively normally._

_Fury allows the couple to rest, they leave in the countryside. Yasha returns to school._

 

**The Avengers Age of Ultron –delayed by 6 years due to Loki escaping earth before starting alien invasion.**

 

_Clint and Natasha alter shifts on team. First part of the movie more or less like canon except Clint ‘replaces’ Natasha as super-archer to get Loki’s spare back (werewolf influence entrances abilities). When escape after Ultron’s ‘birth’ (Natasha skips party for ‘personal reasons’) they reach the Barton-Romanoff household. Greeted by black hound (Sirius animagui). Led back to the house where Yasha is arguing with Jack Hill._

“I want to be a violinist for a reason,” Yasha pointed out. “I’m not fit for that kind of job.”

Hill rolled his eyes.

“Course you’re not. You’ve been raised by one of the deadliest assassin in the world. You helped saving the British magical world by playing a tune with a magic violin. You have the rawest power I’ve seen yet, Yakov. And you’ve got the guts to use them to make things right. And unless I’m mistaking, you feel the urge to help when you can.”

“Shut up!” the teen snapped. “I won’t let you manipulate me into becoming your dirty man. I thought you knew better that trying that! Really your aunt must be proud, you two are the exact same-”

_Stop when newcomers arrive. Clint warmly greeted by 5 year old daughter Katya (he and Natasha’s) and introduces Yasha as his son. Natasha is out in town for supplies as Hermione and Perl arrive the next evening to celebrate Yasha’s birthday and Hermione and Jack’s engagement. Yasha leaves the house to the Avengers to go celebrate with his friends out of town. Upon return, Yasha and Perl invite themselves on the team while Natasha stays behind (she and Clint promised one of them would always be there for their daughter and since she's a lot more vulnerable they prefer her to watch over Katya)._

_Battle against Ultron. Yasha has to fight with other powers as violin doesn’t work on machines._

_Pietro Maximoff is saved by huge back wolf (Yasha animagus) who is shot instead. Survives but barely and Perl pulverizes Ultron in rage. Yasha recovers and gets smothered by an overly grateful Wanda. He asks her out. She agrees._

**Epilogue (few years later)**

 

_Katya sings ‘The Sun Is Rising’ in a competition (the Voice). Yasha and his fiancée Wanda are watching from the backstage. Natasha and Clint and the other Avengers watch at home so they won’t appear on screen. At the same time Perl (businessman in wizarding world) and Pietro go out on a first date. Jack and Hermione Hill have their first child. Sirius flirts with Maria but gets thrown out of her office. When other SHIELD agent asks about his perseverance, he says she stopped trying to shoot him, which he considers progress. It ends with Katya having all three seats turned and when choosing a popular rock star for coach, Yasha sighs in defeat. Wanda teases him about being a music snob, and he retorts kids these days have no taste._

 

 

 

 


End file.
